The Adventures of the Crimson Blade
by starwenn
Summary: Set after "All Noisy On the Pittsburgh Front." Betty and Maple discuss how they would end the cliffhangers for the WENN show "The Crimson Blade"...and it turns into an epic tale of the staff of a small inn, just before the Revolutionary War.
1. Prologue

**The Green Room, Radio Station WENN, February 1942**

Betty Roberts sighed as she listened to _The Crimson Blade_ , one of the shows they broadcast on radio station WENN. Maple LaMarsh sat with her in the green room. She was studying her script for _Amazon Andy_ , which she would be performing after Hilary Booth's _Woman's View on the News_. "I'm really disappointed this is our last episode _._ It was a fun show to write."

Maple nodded. "And the worst thing is, you ended on three cliffhangers. The Crimson Blade and the Jack Carleton the English spy told Lady Deborah she had to choose between them, Deb's maid proposed to the Crimson Blade's sidekick, and the governor's wife said she's married to someone else!" She tossed her script aside. "Do you know how the show woulda worked out?"

Betty turned off the radio. "Well, the sidekick and the maid would get married, but not right away." She turned to Maple with a thoughtful smile. "The Governor's wife was married to The Crimson Blade, but it was all part of a scheme to pull the wool over the eyes of the evil Baron Dimsley. The Governor's wife just said that to get the governor off her back."

"And," she sighed and traced a scratch in the old coffee table, "I have no idea whom Lady Deborah would have chosen. She probably would have told both men to leave her alone and give her a couple of weeks to decide." She shrugged. "I really liked both characters. The Crimson Blade was handsome and charming, but he was also a criminal of sorts. Jack was noble and intelligent, but he was so wrapped up in his work, he barely gave Lady Deb the time of day."

Maple chuckled at the last description. "That sounds like two guys I know." She sighed. "I wish Victor hadn't gone to Washington and Scotty wasn't at basic training. This place has been kind of quiet without them coming up with ideas every other minute. And Eugenia and Mr. Foley have been busy planning their wedding." She leaned back in the couch. "You know...maybe we could still finish this."

Betty looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Maple turned to Betty. "Do it as a special, or a 'movie on the airwaves' thing. Kind of like that 'When In Rome' show you did a while back, but it wouldn't last for 52 hours." She flipped through her script. "We could punch things up a little here and there. Why do the guys have to be in love with some fancy dame, anyway? What if they fell for normal workin' gals, like us?"

Betty made a face. "That doesn't sound very romantic to me."

"You'd be surprised what guys go for," chuckled Maple. "Just ask Errol Flynn." She paged through her _Amazon Andy_ script. "You know...some of this might work for 'The Crimson Blade.' Those shows have a lot in common. We could still have nobles, but maybe they're the good guys. The Governor could be the bad guy. The Baron and his wife are the good guys. " Maple's eyes got dreamy. "And the spy could be somethin' a little less...obvious. Maybe just a normal guy who gets wrapped up in more government stuff than he can handle. Someone tall, an' sweet, an' a looker, but really, really smart. Just not smart enough to avoid the villain."

Betty moved to the couch with Maple. "Well, we could try something like that...


	2. Chapter 1

**The Road Just Outside of Pittsburgh Village, Pennsylvania, August 1773**

"The small, dark wooden coach bounced along the rutted roadway. Elizabeth Roberts leaned back into the faded cushions on the seats. It was late in the evening of her third day of traveling. She had left her home on the small farm near the border of Pennsylvania and New York to accept a job in the bustling Pittsburgh Village. She'd sent a story to a contest in the city and had received ten dollars and a summons to the Monongahela Inn and Theater. Evidently, the gentleman who judged the contest ran the Inn and wrote the plays the theater performed.

Her mind was drowsily watching the trees go by. This was the furthest she'd ever gone from home. She wasn't frightened at all, despite her mother's warnings about unsafe water and the dangerous roadways. "They're filled with highwaymen!" Caroline Roberts had fretted. "Not to mention all that talk of revolution. Who knows what my try to harm you out there?" She'd reassured her mother that she would be fine.

Now that it was getting dark, she wasn't as sure. The other people in the coach were an older couple and a portly man who slept most of the way. She knew they'd never be able to defend themselves if they were attacked. She shook her head, trying to concentrate on the adventure before her./p

She was just dozing off when the coach jolted to a sudden stop. They were all thrown to the floor. Elizabeth managed to make her way through the tangle of legs, stockings, and petticoats and peer outside. "Oh my goodness," she gasped. "I think we're being robbed!

The coach was surrounded by a group of at least five people on horseback. They were clad all in black, from the hoods that covered most of their heads to their gloves and stockings. One, tall and surprisingly shapely, held a gun on the frightened coach driver. Elizabeth could just see a little coppery-red peeping out of their mask.

Another man had just pulled them all out as the sixth rider climbed off his enormous chestnut stallion. He was big and impressive, with dark glittering eyes and a broad chest that easily filled out the bright crimson shirt he wore. A belt of the same crimson was tied around his waist. Otherwise, he was dressed the same as the others, with the same concealing hood. "Ahh, lads, what have we got here today?" The words were barely intelligible, thanks to a heavy (and Elizabeth though, rather overdone) Irish accent. "Not the finest raid we made on this stretch 'o road, but the best lookin' to be sure!" He turned to her with a mocking bow. "And what be your name, oh fair maiden?"

Elizabeth shoved the had that reached for her purse away. "My name is Elizabeth Roberts, and I'm on my way to the Monongahela Inn in Pittsburgh Village. I demand you release us, before the King's guards come along and put you all in jail!" She put her hands on her hips. "I told you my name, but I don't know yours."

He bowed again, this time much lower. "I am the Crimson Blade, if tis pleases my lady."

"No, it doesn't." She got closer to him. "You're nothing but a thief and a scoundrel. Preying on innocent travelers! You should be hung for this!"

The Crimson Blade looked up as the sound of horses could be heard on the road behind them. He pulled out a large silver pocket watch. "Oh, would you look at the time?" He turned to the other men. "Leave them their jewels and money." Elizabeth thought she saw an intrigued smile under the hood. The outlaw gently took her hand and kissed it. "I couldn't harm ye, my beautiful maid. You've got real fire in ye." His voice grew husky. "I like that in a lass. I only regret we canna spend more time together."

She gazed into his velvety eyes. "Perhaps...if you weren't a criminal..."

She didn't have the time to finish the thought. His people were already starting to ride off. He kissed her hand again, then leaped onto his stallion and followed them down the road.

The trio of riders were headed by a tall man with thinning light brown hair in a simple but elegant gray suit. He stopped his horse before Elizabeth. "Miss Roberts?"

She frowned. "Yes? Please tell me you're not a robber, too!"

Not at all, Miss Roberts. Actually, my name is Victor Comstock. Mr. Bloom and Lord Singer and I noticed those brigands and thought you might have been in some distress."

We were in trouble," said the plump man. "That Crimson Blade almost robbed us! He would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for the courage of this young lady here."  
Elizabeth blushed. "I was angry and not thinking clearly. I'm lucky he didn't hurt me!"

Victor Comstock nodded. "I'm glad all seems to be well. You're extremely lucky we were just returning from a trip to Philadelphia and happened to be riding this way." He smiled at Elizabeth. "Would you permit us to be your escort, Miss Roberts? It would make up for this unfortunate and unhappy incident."

She returned his smile and took his hand. "I'd like that, sir."

"May I be so forward to ask where you are bound, Miss Roberts?"

"Pittsburgh Village," she explained as she leaned out the window of the coach. "I won a writing contest. I'll be living and working at the Monongahela Inn."

"By some unusual quirk of fate, I too work at the Inn. I was the one who judged the contest many months ago." He nodded. "Your work requires a great deal of polish, Miss Roberts. It is, however, not lacking in substance. Perhaps we could discuss our mutual fondness for the written word when you arrive at the Inn?"

She nodded. "Oh yes, I'd like that very much!"

Elizabeth didn't know that there were several pairs of eyes watching the carriage as it rolled along. "Why did you let them go?" asked the tall, shapely robber in a voice that was very French and very, very feminine.

The Crimson Blade looked down the road where the coach had gone. "Did you see her?" he asked, almost in a daze. "She was amazing! Beautiful, smart as a whip, courageous..."

"May I remind you that we're outlaws? She's a writer. And she already has friends."

One of the men shook his shoulder. "Remember Boston? Pruitt's there. Some kind of audience with the governor of Massachusetts. He's the real target."

The Crimson Blade could only smirk a little. "So I'll pay court to the lovely Miss Roberts when I return." He chuckled. "Very exciting!"

 **The Porch of the Monongahela Inn, Pittsburgh Village, Pennsylvania Colony, February 1774**

Two figures were silhouetted by the waning moonlight. Elizabeth Roberts, who lived at the Monongahela Inn, held head innkeeper Victor Comstock close to her. "Oh Victor," she said softly, "why do you have to leave us? Everyone at the Inn is going to miss you so!

He looked down gently at her. "Does that statement happen to include you?"

"Of course." She smiled, glad it was too dark for him to see her blushing. "Do you really think I can manage the Inn and write pieces for local publishers? It's a big j

"You'll have the other residents at the Inn to help you, Mackie and Lady Hilary and Lord Jeffrey. Even if the latter duo consider themselves above such things as performing routine kitchen tasks."

Elizabeth frowned. "Why does the government need you so badly? Can't they get someone closer to Boston?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. It's very top secret. I only know we cannot abide the constant chipping away of our inalienable rights any longer." He handed her the keys to the Inn. "These are yours now. I know you'll run the Inn with the same principals I once did."

Elizabeth watched him silently as he walked off into the dark night. _He'll be home in a few weeks. Until then...all I can do is wait._


	3. Chapter 2

**The Green Parlor Room of the Monongahela Inn, a Few Weeks Later**

Elizabeth Roberts was feeling quite content. Well, she would have been more content if Victor Comstock had remained at the Inn. She was currently working on a serial story about a woman who was in love with two men, one a scoundrel, the other a shy nobleman. McKinley Bloom, or "Mackie," as everyone called him, was reading the Daily Gazette with Thomas Eldridge, a kindly old man who had been at the Inn so long, most people claimed he came with the building. Gertrude Reece, the cook and housekeeper, brought them their slices of chicken pudding for lunch. Mackie was Hilary's fellow actor who also acted as the Inn's valet between jobs.

Mackie grinned as he looked over the front page. "Did you guys see today's headline? The Crimson Blade pulled off another big con job. He and his people stole three thousand dollars' worth of jewelry and cash from Governor Pruitt and his right-hand woman, right under their noses. They were dressed as wandering gypsies who told fortunes. Pruitt upped the price on his head to ten thousand dollars."

Mr. Eldridge looked confused. "He stole their noses out from under them? Wouldn't that make it awfully hard to smell anything?"

Gertrude shook her head. "He means the Crimson Blade somehow managed to steal a lot of money without anyone knowing." She let out a wistful sigh. "Oh, to meet a man like the Crimson Blade! I'll bet he's as dashing and handsome as a character from one of Elizabeth's stories."

Mackie snorted. "If it's even a he. No one knows what the Crimson Blade looks like. The descriptions in the Daily Gazette are always different. Sometimes, they say he's tall. Sometimes, he's short. Once, they said he had red hair. Another time, it was dark."

"You guys are no fun at all," sniffed Cecilia, the pretty blond maid, as she polished the silver teaspoons. "I think he's handsome and young and ready to sweep a girl off her feet at a moment's notice."

"Who is?" Lady Hilary Booth swept into the main room. She and her husband Lord Jeffery Singer had once been wealthy nobles in England. They were driven to the colonies by some scandal neither of them wished to discuss. They now lived at the Inn and sometimes performed plays there in return for room and board. Lady Hilary always wore elaborate gowns and hats and jewelry. The blue satin gown she sported that morning was so wide, she had a hard time getting it through the door.

"The Crimson Blade." Mackie handed her the newspaper. "He's at it again. He just stole a thousand clams from Governor Pruitt on the road to Pittsburgh Village."

Lady Hilary made a face. "I can't believe this man is allowed to run wild like this. Why doesn't someone bring him to justice? Isn't ten thousand dollars enough to convince them?"

Cecilia looked shocked. "Beg your pardon, Your Ladyship, but...why would you want them to? He's so romantic!"

"I can think of many things that are far more romantic than having your jewelry stolen and being humiliated by some phantom that no one has ever seen."

Elizabeth stood up, stretching. "I've been working on this story all morning. I need a walk. Cecilia, if you see any new apprentices trembling in the parlor, would you send them to me at the front desk, please?"

There was, in fact, a man standing at the front desk when Elizabeth arrived there. He was ruggedly handsome, with large, velvety brown eyes, hair as black as night and streaked with silver, and a broad, strong countenance. He wore a fancy red suit with lots of braiding. His cheeky grin spread from ear to ear as she took her place behind the desk. His eyes seemed a bit familiar to her, but she couldn't place them. "May I help you, sir?"

"Sure!" He sat on the counter, positioning himself so he could look directly into her eyes. "Is this what they call the front desk?"

She raised her eyebrows at his forward manner, not to mention the slight Irish accent. "We do all right with it." She frowned. "Are you looking for a room, sir? We have a one available on the second floor with an excellent view of the river."

"Nahh, I have my own place down by the docks." He held out a hand to her. "Scott Sherwood, lass. And I'm going to guess that you're Elizabeth Roberts."

She shook the hand. "That's usually what people call me. What aspect of working at an Inn most interests you?"

"It doesn't." Scott chuckled. "I don't like staying in one place for too long. The longest I've ever lived anywhere was when I was stranded off the coast of Africa for three months after my ship went down in storm."

Elizabeth shook her head. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Well, sir, we're really looking for someone with more interest in the Inn and working in the hospitality industry..."

Scott's grin widened. "Oh, but you can't fire me, Liz. I'm your new manager."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "You are?"

He handed her a paper. "Here's my references, a letter direct from Victor Comstock himself. I'm an old friend of his. He's told me so much about you."

"What about me?"

"Oh, things you'd hate knowin' I heard. Now, why don't we round up the rest of the staff, and I'll introduce myself?"

 **The Parlor Room of the Monongahela Inn, Later that Day**

All of the residents and servants of the Inn gathered in the large parlor room with the green wallpaper. Miss Eugenia Bremer and Mr. Foley were musicians who gave lessons for local children out of their room. Lord Jeffery Singer put his arm around his sort-of wife Hilary. He was tall and slender, with angular cheekbones and attractively tousled chestnut curls. Mr. Eldridge and Gertrude sat in one corner, chatting about the new manager. Cecilia dusted in another corner...but she stood close enough to the others to hear everything that was said.

Scott strolled right in, followed by Elizabeth. "Scott Sherwood, everyone," he said cheerfully. "I was sent here by my good pal Victor Comstock to take over the running of this Inn. He told me to do anything I could to get this little Inn out of the red and into the black."

Mackie frowned. "Uh, does that mean any immediate...changes?"

Scott grabbed a wooden chair and sat on it backwards. "Sure! I've been working on some ideas that could really put this little inn on the map. Fort Pitt is expanding. More people are moving here from Philly and the south every day. They're gonna need a place to stay while they find jobs, and this will be the first Inn anyone thinks of." His grin got even bigger. "Very exciting!"

 **The Garden Behind the Monongahela Inn, Late That Night**

A single candle illuminated the room where Elizabeth Robertson lived. Elizabeth often stayed up late at night, working on a story. Right now, she was having problems. She just couldn't decide whether her heroine should end up with the reformed scoundrel or the nobleman.

That was when she heard something moving in the garden. She softly moved to the window. A breeze rustled the faded calico curtains. The moonlight illuminated what appeared to be a figure in black, carrying a bag. The bag looked like it was burlap and lumpy; something lustrous hanging out of the top shined in the waning light.

Another figure appeared. This was was fairly tall and a little more slender. They exchanged some quick words. Elizabeth tried to hear them, but all she caught was "plan," "money," and "hide." The taller one leaned over and gave the other a quick hug before they took off in opposite directions.

Elizabeth grabbed her shawl, threw it over her nightgown, and crept downstairs. The Inn looked dark and almost spooky in the velvet night. She tip-toed around where Mr. Eldridge snored in a chair by the fireplace, looking for whomever that was who had been outside. What if it was the Crimson Blade, or some thief? She immediately admonished herself for her wild imagination. They had little money or valuables, nothing that would attract a thief or the roguish "Crimson Blade."

 _What would the Crimson Blade want with us, anyway? We're just some little Inn in a small village in the middle of nowhere. We're barely breaking even!_ She sighed. _It's too bad, though_. _He sounds sort of_ _like Robin Hood. Doing good things...but remaining a thief and a scoundrel._

She made her way into the main room. Her eye was caught by a painting of Victor Comstock by the fireplace. He looked dapper in his fancy blue uniform. _The Crimson Blade isn't like Victor. Victor was noble and good and kind. He wouldn't do something like dressing as gypsies or stealing from the Governor himself..._ "Oof!"

"Hey, watch the traffic, lady!"

Elizabeth rubbed her nose. "Goodness, you're hard-headed! What are you doing up so late, Scott?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Liz."

"I thought I heard voices outside."

Scott smirked. "Are you sure? Or did you just have a secret rendezvous with some dashing English army officer? Elizabeth Roberts, I am shocked!"

"Scott, I really did hear voices! There were two people outside. I heard them talking. One carried a big bag. They might have been thieves! We can afford to lose the day's take. We can barely afford to feed the staff and residents as it is."

"Well, if there were any thieves lurking around, they're gone now. It's nothing but us night owls." He took Elizabeth's arm. "May I accompany you to your bedroom, Mistress Roberts?"

"Yes, but that's all you're doing. This isn't an engraved invitation."

"I'll be a perfect gentleman." They strolled up the stairs together. It wasn't until she was back in her room, snuggled under her covers, that Elizabeth rememebered he never did say what he was doing downstairs.


	4. Chapter 3

**Pittsburgh Village Fair, Outside at the Village Square, Two Weeks Later**

Elizabeth helped Scott line chairs in neat rows. "Are you sure about this? I've never had one of my stories actually performed before."

Scott's roguish grin spread across his face. "Aw, come on, Lizzie! This will be great! Every business in Pittsburgh Village is setting up something for the Spring Festival. It's the biggest event in the Pennsylvania Colony. It'll really put us on the map!"

She sighed as she set up the last seat. "I will say this is an improvement over some of your ideas. What in heaven's name made you think we could turn the inn into a general store? We aren't salesmen!"

He went to the makeshift stage and set a wooden tree upright. "The residents seemed to like the idea when I put it out to them. Become a branch of Broomes Brothers' General Store and receive a ten percent commission on every jug of molasses and bolt of fabric sold. It would have worked if they hadn't deducted the cost of setting everything up from everyone's pay."

Elizabeth tied the red curtain to a rod. "At least this is legitimate. Mr. Devere, who owns the stationary shop down the street, seemed really excited about having a play at the fair."

"Excited enough to pony up the money for the fancy costumes and scenery, anyway." He turned to her. "Piece of cake!"

"I just wish Lord Jeffrey hadn't gone to Boston to help Victor. Things are really tense there right now, what with all those Intolerable Acts and that "tea party" they had last year. Lady Hilary is worried sick, and now we're short on help, too."

Scott put an arm around Elizabeth. "We have Mackie and Hilary and Cecilia to play the little boy and his friends who got lost and found themselves at the fair. I liked the part about them being attacked by an evil old witch who tries to take the boy's special trinket away."

Elizabeth smiled. "I hope it works out. The others were complaining about it not being very glamorous."

"Who cares about glamorous as long as people come to see it?" He picked up a stack of posters. "Lets go advertise the greatest stage work since Shakespeare's last show!"

 **Pittsburgh Village Fair, Outside at the Village Square, Later That Day**

Elizabeth sat in the back row, watching the show. _So far, so good_ , she thought. No one had bumped into the scenery or gotten any lines wrong. It seemed a little flat, but it could have been a lot worse. Hilary in particular didn't seem to be paying attention to her performance. Her mind was hundreds of miles away with her husband, not on the stage.

Scott had been watching with her, but he disappeared when Gertrude tapped his shoulder and said something about some business at the Inn. That was at least ten minutes ago. The show was just about over.

Betty felt a tug on her arm just as the cast were starting to take their bows. Scott, Gertrude, C.J, and Mr. Eldridge were behind her. "We just got some big, big news, Liz." He frowned. "We have to tell the others now."

Elizabeth saw the looks in their eyes. "What is it? What happened?"

Scott wouldn't tell her until they met the others by the stage. "What's going on?" Hilary demanded. "You look as if someone died in this show. Were our performances that bad?"

Gertrude sniffled. "Your Ladyship, that isn't funny. We just got word from Boston. Victor Comstock was killed in a riot during his speeches."

Elizabeth let out a horrified "No!" The others gasped. Scott Sherwood's face was a blank mask.

Hilary stiffened. "And Jeffrey?"

Mr. Eldridge put his arm on Hilary's shoulder. "Don't worry, Your Ladyship. He's fine. He's in a hospital in Boston. He was hurt in the riot, but they got him out. He'll be home in a few weeks."

Scott didn't like the glazed look of shock in Elizabeth's brown eyes. "Liz, are you ok?"

"Yes, Scott." She gathered her purse. "I'm going home. If anyone needs me, I'll be writing."

 **The Monongahela Inn, Three Weeks Later**

Scott was worried. Elizabeth refused to leave her room. She'd locked herself in and had done nothing but write story after story where the boy always got the girl and nothing horrible ever happened. He wanted to break her door down and demand that she join the real world, but he suspected she wouldn't take it well.

Besides, someone had to run the Inn. Evidently, Elizabeth dealt with the complaints of residents, handled supplies, made sure the rooms were spotless, and even worked the front desk. The others didn't really know how to do it. He did all he could to keep things afloat in those weeks.

It didn't help that the owner of a theater in Philadelphia had been so impressed with Cecilia's performance in the show at the fair, he offered her a job. She took it eagerly. Being an actress had always been her real goal. Her exit left the Inn without a maid. All of the residents were pressed to do the chores she'd vacated.

"Elizabeth?" Scott knocked on the door to her room. "I have someone here who wants to talk to you."

"No, Scott," she croaked, "I'm busy with my writing."

Lord Jeff Singer stepped next to Scott, at least as well as he could with a cane and a bandaged chest. Hilary was with him. "As a peer of the realm, Mistress Roberts, I demand that you come downstairs." He smiled slightly. "Or there will be dire consequences."

Elizabeth met them in the green parlor. She looked haggard and unkempt, very different from the neat and trim Elizabeth Scott had gotten used to. Her shapeless gray dress was wrinkled and stained with ink. Her tired eyes lit up when she saw Jeff. "Your Lordship, you're home!"

"Yes, Mistress Roberts, I'm home." He looked around the parlor room. "I...I thought it would be all gone, but it's here." He turned to a beaming Hilary, wearing one of her finest purple silk gowns. "And you're here. And you," he pointed to Scott, "and you," he turned his finger to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth...you look terrible."

"I'm all right." She went to him. "Lord Jeffrey, what...happened? We haven't really heard any details."

He bit his lip. "I don't remember much. Victor and I were separated during the riot after one of our speeches. All I know is, I woke up in a hospital with a fractured leg, and he...they said he was gone."

Hilary rubbed his arm gently. "We're going to go away for a few weeks." She grinned into his eyes. "Jeffrey will need to recover somewhere warm and tropical."

Jeffery's own grin widened. "I heard Spain's Mexican colonies are lovely this time of year."

Hilary's rubbing got deeper. "Perfect place for a romantic rendezvous."

Scott rolled his eyes. "What you two do when you're feeling mushy is your business. Elizabeth and I will do some acting in our plays and help out until you get back."

But the two nobles didn't hear a word he said. They were too busy staring passionately into each other's eyes to pay anyone else much mind.

 **The Monongahela Inn, Six Weeks Later**

Gertrude Reece wasn't surprised in the least when Lady Hilary and Lord Jeff burst angrily into the Inn, dressed in rumpled clothing and shooting each other looks that would kill a British officer at thirty paces. They dropped their baggage on the just-cleaned floor. She and Elizabeth, who were dusting in the lobby, exchanged amused looks of their own and went on with what they were doing.

"Whose idea was it to take that trip all the way down to the Mexican colonies anyway?" Hilary rubbed her rear. "That last carriage bounced so abominably, I may never sit straight again!"

"Did you ever to begin with?" Jeff growled. "Hilary, why did we get married again?"

"Because we'll only get divorced and then married again if we didn't. Do you remember why we had to leave England?"

"Yes, it was because you just had to have that dalliance with that Barrymore you kept discussing."

Hilary smirked. "When a Barrymore wants you to dally, you dally. They're practically royalty, darling."

Scott walked in, eating one of the chocolate biscuits Gertrude made earlier. "Did you two have fun in Mexico?"

"About as much as can be expected with him" Hilary nodded at Jeff "along for the ride."

"Good." Scott picked up one of Elizabeth's dust rags off the table and handed it to Hilary. "We're going to need you to help do the dusting upstairs until we can hire a new maid. Jeff, you can scrub the pots and pans in the kitchen with Mr. Eldridge."

Hilary looked at the rag like it intended to bite her. "Surely you don't expect someone of our station to do common housework?"

"It's either that, or you find another place to live."

Jeff glared at Hilary. "I'll do it. It might not be bad work, at that. I don't believe in shirking my duty." He turned to Scott as he headed out. "Take our things upstairs to our rooms. I'll be up there after I've made every bloody pot in that kitchen shine like the Mexican sun at noon in July!"

Scott handed Hilary a hat box. "I believe this is your job, Your Ladyship. It's your luggage. I have an inn to run." He followed Jeff out the door, dropping biscuit crumbs on his way.

Hilary first turned to Elizabeth, but she shook her head. "No can do, Your Ladyship. I have stories to write, and the front desk needs to be polished." She made a face at the biscuit crumbs on the floor "And now I need to sweep in here again." She went to get a broom.

Hilary dumped the hatbox into Gertrude's arms. "Take our things upstairs, Gertrude. Mind the smaller boxes. That's my jewelry."

Gertrude rolled her eyes. "What do I look like, your lady in waiting?"

"You'll be waiting for a pink slip if you talk to me that way again." Hilary snapped her fingers. "Now, go to it! I'll be in the garden, taking some nice cold tea after my long, hot journey to Mexico." She left Gertrude sputtering with a hatbox in her arms.


	5. Chapter 4

**The Fou Del Rouge Theater, Pittsburgh Village, the Next Day**

No one noticed Scott ducking into the alleyway behind the slightly dilapidated theater. The Fou Del Rouge was a French venue noted mainly for its European dancers' scanty costumes. His second-in-command worked here, but he'd wanted them to be closer to their headquarters. Now was the perfect opportunity.

He knocked on the back door. "Maple? Are you there?"

A head poked out. "Scott?" The woman was shapely and well-formed, the hair a flaming red-gold. Her lips parted in an enormous, warm smile. She wore a tight, frilly dancing costume that left little to the imagination. "What are you doing in this head of the woods? I thought you said you had a new piece of work." Her voice was a contralto in a bad French accent.

"Shh!" He nodded. "I found the perfect spot for our headquarters. We can't keep hidin' stuff in the woods. The Governor will figure it out sooner or later. I met a fellow in Boston who needed someone to manage some little inn here in Pittsburgh while he was off fighting the British. The guy died, and I stayed around." His eyes got a little dreamier. "That girl...the one we met on the road to here a few months ago...she needed me. Elizabeth needed me. She's so smart...and beautiful...and brave..."

Maple raised an eyebrow. "You sound as if you are in amour with her."

"I've got more important things on my mind than love." He looked around. "I'll tell you this fast. There's a job open at the inn. The original maid left, and they need a replacement. You have experience. You were a maid in France."

Maple shrugged. "This is true. Besides, it is much more good than pushing the hommes away from my costume. I tire of only being looked at. I want to be a femme who has respect."

"Sure." He handed her a piece of paper. "This is the address." His eyes widened as they heard voices outside the alley. "I'd better go. I'll see you later." He ducked out. Maple went back in the theater, her big brown eyes shining.

 **The Monongahela Inn, Later That Day**

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the paper the tall, attractive red-head handed her. Jeff, Mr. Foley, and Mackie sat on the couch behind her, admiring the comely woman whose tight flowered gown and fancy feathered hat showed off every single one of her considerable curves. The satin heeled shoes she wore showed gave her even more stature."You've had some very, um, interesting jobs, Miss Martienne."

"Merci, mademoiselle!" She gave her an enormous, toothy grin. "I have had checkered career, non?"

"Um, yes." She handed her the paper. "How are you with basic cleaning? Dusting, sweeping, mopping, making the bed..."

Maple smirked a little. "Let us say I know much about beds, making them and unmaking them."

Jeff, Mackie, and Mr. Foley were grinning ear to ear now.

Betty blushed, but she said, "Well, you have the job. You're the closest candidate to being qualified we've talked to all day. You'll have the servant's quarters in the rooms in the back with our housekeeper Gertrude, Mackie Bloom our valet, and Mr. Eldridge, our...well, you'll be out in the back. It has a lovely view of the garden."

"Oh, merci!" She beamed. "I am so glad I am able to work here!" She shook Elizabeth's hand. "It will be new experience."

All three men surrounded her the moment she started towards the garden. Mackie grabbed her one traveling bag. "Let me help you with that."

Jeff took her cloak. "I'll hang that in the hall linen press."

"You forget, Jeff, you're married." Mackie started to take her arm, but Mr. Foley got there first.

Maple smiled her enormous, toothy grin. "Why, merci, Monsieur! You are, how you say it, very gentlemanly." Foley gave them a small smirk over his shoulder as he escorted her to the garden.

 **Basement of the Monongahela Inn, Midnight**

Dark shadows fell across the gardens of the Monongahela Inn. They almost served to hide the figure in the stifling cloak that darted across the silvery-green grass. It ducked into the wooden door with iron hinges that lead under the building.

The basement was musty and dark. Shelves of preserves, crates of food and supplies, old costumes and scenery from the plays, and tools on the walls gave off odd shadows. A familiar figure in a dark cloak leaned on a crate in one corner. "Hi, Mapes," it whispered. "Have a hard time getting away?"

"Non, Scott." Maple pulled off the hood, revealing her glittering brown eyes and bright red hair. "Mackie went out with the maid who brings milk, and Gertrude and Monsieur Eldridge are asleep." She looked around. "Do you think it is safe to talk? We are not alone. There are others upstairs."

"Nahh, they're all out. I checked. Well, except for their Lady and Lordship, but," he smirked knowingly, "they're otherwise occupied."

Another, smaller figure joined them. This one also wore a dark cloak, but he was definitely male, with lighter hair and a cleft in his chin. "I got your message," C.J, the Inn's messenger boy, admitted. "Lester wanted to be here, but he said he was busy with work. He's probably working on a woman."

"That is Lester for you." Maple sat next to Scott. "So, what is next business you are planning to remove money from?"

"Flowergrams Gardens, just outside Fort Pitt. Beautiful estate with a thriving flower shop...and a wealthy one. I was also thinking we could stop a couple of the Pennsylvania Colony Coaches that run from here to Philadelphia and rip off some of the richer clientele." He grinned at Maple. "How are you with flowers?"

"I do not sneeze around them, if that is what you mean. I could dress as flower seller or fancy lady who buy flowers for home." She waved her hand upstairs. "I will have to fit it in between chores here. I did not know running inn required so many things of a girl." She smiled. "I think I will like it, though. It will be nice to do honest work between jobs."

"It is kind of nice, isn't it?" He frowned. "No one else at the inn can know what we're doing. I don't want them involved." He turned to them. "The money...I have a new plan for it."

C.J and Maple looked surprised. "A new plan?" Maple raised her eyebrows. "You're not..."

He put a hand over Maple's mouth. "No, I'm not. The money we make and that I've...borrowed...from here will be going to the causes that Victor Comstock fought for." He pulled away from her. The moonlight fell on his broad back. "I've heard the residents' stories. Victor Comstock wanted all Americans to be free. He believed the English are really giving us a raw deal. He died for that cause." He turned back, his face grave. "I was in the French and Indian War. I know what the English are capable of. They've already killed Comstock. The staff deserves better than being taxed off their land and treated like dirt by people like Governor Pruitt."

Suddenly, a sliver of light shown from above Scott. "That was a pretty speech, Mr. Sherwood." Lord Jeffrey Singer stood in the doorway. "A pity I doubt you really mean it."

Scott turned to the door in surprise. "What are you doing here? How did you..."

Jeff leaned in the doorway. His breeches had been hastily thrown on. He held a coverlet around his shoulders. "Hilary and I had just finished our...administrations when I heard someone walking downstairs. I followed you here."

Scott stepped closer to Maple and C.J. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know you're planning something important." He came downstairs. "You're stealing from local businesses. You're nothing but common thieves!"

"Shhh!" Scott shook his head. "Not that common, Your Lordship." He frowned. "What we tell you here has to be kept secret. You can't tell anyone what we're doing. Not the staff, and especially not Hilary."

Jeff just looked confused. "All right. I swear, I won't tell a soul. But what..."

Scott's familiar roguish grin spread across his face. "Aye lad," he said, his Irish accent thickening until it was practically a stew, "I dare say you know who we are. Have you ever heard of The Crimson Blade?"

Jeff nodded. "What does he have to do with this?" He looked upstairs. "And what about Elizabeth? She's a clever girl. She'll figure out what you're doing."

Scott smirked. "Just leave her to me, Jeff. Piece of cake!"

 **The Manager's Office, the Next Morning**

Elizabeth Roberts groaned. "I don't believe you!"

Scott chuckled. "Well, that's probably a good policy." He sat on the top of the desk in his office. "Liz, Victor Comstock literally gave his life to make these colonies great. Those big, big businesses out there won't notice a little bit missing. We'll donate the money we get from the Flowergrams Gardens and Pennsylvania Colony Coaches to the American causes here and in Boston that he spoke for."

Elizabeth frowned. "Well, as long as something useful will come out of it. We'll still promote the Gardens and the Coaches here, of course. We have small weddings in the garden occasionally. I just...Scott, I don't like this. We really should return the money..."

"Lass, that's something we can _not_ do. How would we explain it?"

Elizabeth sighed. "All right. It's for the good of the Inn." She looked down at the books. "And for Victor."

Scott looked into her eyes. "You miss him, don't you?"

"Well, yes. He was...he was a good manager and a good man. He had so many ideas for keeping the Inn going. When he left, I thought my heart left, too."

Scott looked hopeful. "And now?"

Elizabeth could only smile a little bit. "We'll see, Scott." It was enough to make Scott's heart leap.

 _Someday_ , he thought wistfully to himself, _I'll tell her who I really am. For now...all I can do is show that I love her._


	6. Chapter 5

**The Monongahela Inn, October 1774**

Elizabeth Roberts sat in her room, working on her newest stories. Her publisher, Kurt Holstrom, was delighted with the adventure tales she was turning out. She certainly didn't lack for inspiration! The Crimson Blade and his band of outlaws had been quite active in the last few months, striking businesses ranging from the Flowergrams Gardens on the edge of town to the Pennsylvania Colony Coaches and the Midas Lotions and Soaps Shop a few streets away. No one knew just how they were getting away with it.

Elizabeth sighed. The Inn was doing as well as it ever did. The core residents and staff remained on, while other customers came and went, sometimes in the blink of an eye. Lady Penelope Comminger of Flowergrams Gardens had stayed on for a few days. She claimed she was there to oversee some of the weddings they were providing flowers for, but Elizabeth suspected she really wanted to talk to Mackie Bloom, who had once courted her.

Then, there was the time Scott's Aunt Agatha, who lived by the sea in the Massachusetts Colony, spent a day at the Inn. Scott claimed the Inn was a fortress and that he was a crony of George Washington! Elizabeth did have to admit it was kind of fun to pretend to be a military spy...until Aunt Agatha revealed that she'd known all along what they were doing.

And then, there was the infamous time they started a newspaper at the Inn. Scott called it an "in-house newsletter." Their publication lasted eight hours. They chose the quietest, least-newsworthy day to begin. They could find no news to report anywhere, and Elizabeth refused to let Scott create his own.

Elizabeth had to admit that she'd begun to like Scott. She liked him a great deal. Even when his ideas didn't work, he always bounced back and came up with another one. He was funny and sweet and every inch a gentleman. He was a different manager than Victor Comstock, who was noble and good and dedicated to the station. She was certain Victor wouldn't walk on rooftops to create news or "borrow" money from local businesses.

She was glad to see how happy Lord and Lady Singer were, too. Their romantic overtures to each other in the plays were the talk of Pittsburgh Village. Sure, they still fought on occasion, but they were mostly insanely in love with each other...and there was the noise they made in their rooms at night to prove it.

"Miss Roberts?" She stood and went to the door. C.J Byrnes, the Inn's messenger boy, held out an envelope to her. "Here's a letter from Mr. Holstrom. Everyone in the Inn got one."

Elizabeth took the envelope. "Thank you, C.J." She opened it, her eyes slowly widening with delight as she did. "It's an invitation! Mr. Holstrom inviting everyone at the Inn to Governor Pruitt's masquerade ball! He's a close, personal friend of the Governor. It'll be held at the Governor's Palace just outside of Pittsburgh Village." She read it over. "And he even wants the actors and actresses to perform! Eugenia and Mr. Foley will play with the governor's own orchestra."

Hilary and Jeff hurried to her door. "Did you get your invitation, Elizabeth? Isn't it exciting? Our first real society ball since my days as the toast of London." She turned to Jeff. "You'll have to wear that dashing new velvet cape I ordered for you. It makes you look like a musketeer from the French legions. And I'll finally have a reason to take my tiara out of storage."

Jeff nuzzled her. "You'd look even more beautiful in nothing at all."

Hilary kissed him. "Save that thought for after the ball." She turned to Elizabeth. "I know several good seamstresses here in Pittsburgh Village. I might be able to get you something suitable."

Elizabeth frowned. "Gosh, I didn't even think of what to wear! I'm just excited to be going to a ball!"

Maple nearly ran into Hilary and Jeff as they went off to talk clothes and C.J went to give envelopes to the others. "Ooh lah lah! Elizabeth, it is exciting, oui? I have the perfect number that I will wear. I will be bird in feather dance costume from Fou Del Rouge." She sighed. "I will be going to ball with Monsieur Bloom. He is tres...how you say it?...courtly. I will have good time with him."

Scott replaced Maple at the door. "Get your invite to this shindig, Liz? Anyone ask you out?" He made a face. "Did...Doug...ask you?"

Elizabeth sighed. Doug was Douglas Thompson, the sweet lawyer who lived at the Inn when he was in Pittsburgh. He had been courting Elizabeth on and off for a few months. His attentions made Scott very jealous. "No, Scott. Douglas isn't in town. He's in the countryside, dealing with one of his farmer clients."

"Good." Scott grinned. "I wanted first dibs on asking you." He pulled up a chair next to her, turned it around, and sat on it backwards. "Would you like to go with me? I'm not a good dancer, but I'd keep you on your toes."

"I'm sure you would." Elizabeth finally nodded. "Yes, Scott, I'll go to the ball with you. You've been such a great help to the Inn. We're almost breaking even now, all because of you." _When you've been here_ , she mentally added. Scott had the habit of disappearing at the most inopportune times. She'd go to his office, looking for him, and he wouldn't be there...and then he'd turn up a few hours later, asking her to consider his latest harebrained scheme.

"Great, Liz! I'll pick you up on the front porch at 7 PM. Don't be late!" He looked at his silver pocket watch. "Oh, would you look at the time? I have a meeting with your publisher Kurt Holstrom about putting ads for his books on the side of the Inn. Isn't that a great idea? I'll call it 'billboards.'" He was still talking about it on his way out

Elizabeth sighed again as she watched him leave. "I wish that man would stop for more than five minutes and linger! And where have I heard 'Oh, would you look at the time?' before?"

Jeff and Maple met Scott in the hallway. His grin melted into a worried frown. "Are we all goin'?"

Maple nodded. "Oui. The whole staff is going, except for Madame Gertrude et Monsieur Eldridge. They are going to stay and watch Inn." She looked into his eyes. "Scott, tell us why party is so important?" She smirked. "Other than getting to show off our dancing shoes."

"I can't keep lying to Hilary about this," Jeff added. "I think she's already suspicious."

Scott held out several sheets of paper. "Jeff, those billboards Holstrom asked us to put on the Inn are in code. I recognized it. I worked on codes during the French and Indian War." He had the dignity to blush. "I was promoting an archery tournament between some of the Indian nations and the British settlers. The settlers claimed it was fixed. So I either broke codes for British spies or spent six months in the jail at Fort Pitt. I got pretty good at it, actually."

Jeff nodded. "Ok, so it's in code. What does that have to do with anything?"

"The codes," Scott whispered, "seem to be orders to destroy the ironworks and boat works here in Pittsburgh Village. The ones that provide weapons and transportation for George Washington's soldiers."

Maple gasped. The two men looked grim. "Why would Holstrom Publishing be involved in sabotage?" Maple asked. "Unless..." She let the thought trail off, unable to even consider it. Kurt Holstrom was one of Pittsburgh's leading publishers, and a major figure in the village. If he was in league with the English, it meant things in little Pittsburgh were far more complicated than previously suspected.

Elizabeth Roberts stepped out of her room. "Scott...what do you mean?"

Scott frowned. "Liz, not to speak ill of your boss, but I think he could be involved in some really big, big news...like sabotage..."

 **Lady Hilary and Lord Jeffrey Singer's Room, That Afternoon**

"Hilary, I don't believe him." Elizabeth winced as Gertrude stuck another pin into her gossamer gown. "Kurt Holstrom is one of Pittsburgh's most important people! Why would he be a spy?"

Hilary crossed her arms. "Elizabeth, could you get your mind off politics and onto something of vastly more importance to my love life and yours?" She stopped in front of the girl in the white dress. "I know Jeffrey has been sneaking out at night, usually with your beloved rogue Scott Sherwood."

"He's not my beloved rogue."

Hilary ignored her protest. "They're up to something. It's not seeing other women. Scott is devoted to you," she smirked, "and Jeffrey knows if I ever caught him chasing after any woman who wasn't me, I'd castrate him and send him to the seventh and eighth bowels of the nearest hell. Or have I said too much?"

Gertrude rolled her eyes. "They're probably going to the Buttery Tavern down the street to get drunk."

"No, I don't smell ale on his breath when he gets in."

Elizabeth fidgeted. "Hilary, what you says does make sense. Scott's acted strangely ever since he's arrived. I wish there was a way we could find out what they're doing."

Gertrude took the remaining pins out of her mouth. "You could always put them on leashes."

"Jeff would just chew through his." Hilary finally stopped. "Elizabeth, we'll have to stick with our men every minute tonight. Let's not leave their sides for a second. If they take off, we follow them."

Gertrude finally got to her feet. "I don't know why they'd want to leave your sides. You both look amazing."

She pulled a mirror in front of them to let them look. Hilary preened at the sight of her black and silver gown with the puffed sleeves and enormous, stiff lace collar. The silver and jet tiara sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. Elizabeth was a decided contrast in her ethereal white gown trimmed with ruffles and gossamer wings. A wreath of white roses circled her dark chestnut curls.

"Ooh lah lah," Maple exclaimed as she came in. "You are tres magnifique!" She wore an enormous gown of red silk trimmed with matching feathers. Feathers bobbed in her red-orange waves. Her daringly low-cut neckline was awash in gold ruffles and lace. She held three masks, one in red, one in white, and one black and silver. "The hommes are waiting on the porch for us. Let's show them a good time!"


	7. Chapter 6

**The Governor's Mansion, That Evening**

Elizabeth Roberts had never felt so elegant in her entire life. She and Scott were walking down the steps to the ballroom, arm in arm. He was dressed as a Spanish warrior all in black, with a woven poncho, a heavy velvet mask, and a dark, wide-brimmed hat cocked over his shining black-sliver locks. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice the many pairs of eyes that turned to them.

The Governor's Palace was enormous. The ornate ballroom alone would have made six of the Monongahela Inn. Elizabeth was overwhelmed by the crowds of elaborately-dressed people there. She saw outfits and masks in every shade of the rainbow and every book character that had ever been created. C.J, dressed as Robin Hood in green, blushed as red as Maple's outfit as they danced. Jeffrey, costumed as a French musketeer, swept Hilary into a waiting crowd of admirers. Mackie, who was Polonius from _Hamlet_ , had several admirers of his own.

"Some party, huh?" Scott lead her to the dance floor. "I'll give Pruitt credit. He sure knows how to throw a bash." She chuckled as he swung her into the dance. He was right. He wasn't very good. He kept stepping on her toes. She didn't really mind, though. He looked so dashing in his black outfit and bright woven poncho, picked up on some previous adventure of his.

"Mr. Sherwood!" Governor Pruitt oozed up to them after they finished their dance. Scott pasted on a grin, but one hand curled into a fist. Elizabeth put her hand on his. The Governor was the wealthiest man in the entire colony. He owned many, many businesses throughout the colonies, as well as several estates in England. It was said that not all of his wealth was gained through honest dealings. Elizabeth had heard the rumors about the families, in England and the colonies, whose lives had been destroyed when he took their estates and their livelihoods by force. He was also rather ugly, with his beady dark eyes, slicked-back black hair, and face that resembled a constipated bulldog.

"It's so interesting to finally meet you. Lady Gloria Redmond, who owns that little hole-in-the-ground of yours, has told me so much about your doings at her Inn." He took Elizabeth's hand. "And who is this charming spirit? Her radiant beauty outshines all the women at the ball tonight."

"Miss Elizabeth Roberts." Elizabeth had to resist pulling her hand away when he kissed it. His kiss was a slimy brush across her knuckles, very different from Scott, or Victor, or even the Crimson Blade. "That's very kind of you, Governor." She squeezed Scott's fist again. "We've heard so much about you as well."

"Nothing too horrible, I hope. I know there's some frightful things going around about what I do to my colonists. Lies, all of them."

Scott's smile tightened. "Oh, nothing too bad. Just that you run any business you don't like into the ground, then swallow the profits whole, like a snake swallows an egg."

Pruitt's snake-like smirk got meaner. "Like I said, Sherwood, lies." He took Elizabeth's arm. "Would you do me the honor of joining me for this dance, Miss Roberts?"

Elizabeth turned to Scott, but he was already looking at his pocket watch. "Oh, would you look at the time? Liz, I see James Crowley, of the Weeping Joker Inn, our competition down by the Allegheny. I really need to talk to him about sharing ideas for rounding up new customers." He deeply kissed her hand, then gave Pruitt a "that's how you do it" smirk before rushing off.

"Elizabeth!" Hilary pushed her way through the throng. "My Jeffrey just took off for the little boys' room chamber pot. I know that excuse was as phony as some of the women's bosoms." She leaned over Elizabeth and whispered conspiratorially "I happen to know Duchess Grace Cavendish pads her bosom."

Elizabeth coughed. "Hilary, we have to follow the men." She turned to Pruitt. "I'll dance with you another time, Governor. We seem to have misplaced our escorts."

Pruitt still smirked. "I'll be waiting with baited breath for the next dance."

"I'm sure you will." Elizabeth and Hilary hurried from Pruitt as quickly as possible.

Mackie and Mr. Foley rushed over to them. Mr. Foley wore painted silver metal on his arms and legs that was supposed to make him look like a knight in shining armor. It clanked so loudly, no one could hear what he was saying. "Have either of you seen Maple?" Mackie asked over the din. "I haven't gotten a dance with her yet!" Foley nodded his head in agreement.

"We were looking for our escorts." Elizabeth pointed towards the crowd behind her. "Scott's supposed to be talking to James Crawley," she said, indicating a tall, portly man in a joker's outfit, "but he isn't there. Jeff's gone, too."

Eugenia, dressed as a shepherdess in a pink flowered dress and enormous bonnet, joined them. "Mr. Foley, you promised me the next dance." She saw the worried faces on the others. "Did I say something wrong?"

Hilary crossed her arms. "Nothing of the sort, Eugenia. We just seemed to have lost a few members of our party, including Scott Sherwood and my Jeffrey."

Eugenia shrugged. "Oh, I'm sure they're around here somewhere."

That was when the lights went out. The entire ballroom was plunged into darkness. Hilary groaned. "Oh wonderful! Now we'll never find them!"

Mackie whimpered. "I don't like this! I'm scared of the dark!"

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she felt a breath over her shoulder. "Miss Roberts, give me your bracelet and your locket. I'll have my people return them to the Inn at the end of the night."

Elizabeth did as she was bid, despite her surprise. "The Crimson Blade! But what...why..."

"Shhh!" His heavy Irish accent was husky and deep...and familiar. "Elizabeth Roberts, you're the smartest and prettiest lass I've ever known. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in that carriage." He kissed her gently on the neck. "Meet me at the stone bench by the cherry tree in the garden at the back of the Monongahela Inn at midnight. I'll tell you more there."

Hilary was getting similar treatment from a taller outline...one that was also quite well-known to her. "Jeffrey!" she hissed as a hand yanked at her head. "What are you doing? That tiara costs a fortune! Not to mention, you're mussing my hair."

"Hilary, I swear, I'll give it back later." He sighed. "I should have known I couldn't fool you."

"I like to think we know each other too well for that." She squeezed his gloved hand. "Darling, why are you doing this? If you've done something worse than usual, we could try to make it right."

"I can't tell you, Mittens. Not right now. I'll explain everything I can after the ball."

Another familiar, younger voice shook Jeff's arm. "Are you coming, or what? We still have the rest of the crowd to do."

"Right." He kissed Hilary passionately. "I'll see you later, Mittens."

"Right back at ya, Pumpkin." Hilary let out a romantic sigh as she heard feet take off for the ballroom.

Mackie groaned. "Damn it, someone got my cufflinks!" He raised an eyebrow. "And I think they pinched my behind!"

"And my pearl necklace is gone!" added Eugenia with a wail. Mr. Foley only shrugged. His knight costume didn't require fancy jewelry.

"Now we really need to find the others." Elizabeth pointed towards the ballroom. "Mackie, you, Mr. Foley, and Eugenia search the ballroom. Talk to the musicians. They may have seen either the men or the Crimson Blade. Hilary and I will search the adjoining rooms."

The moment they were alone, Hilary turned to Elizabeth, her eyes angry and annoyed. "That was Jeffrey who stole my tiara! When I get my hands on him, I'll kill him! Even if that kiss was the best we've had in...hours..."

Elizabeth's cheeks were flaming. "I think the Crimson Blade himself took mine."

"That hell-raising highwayman who's robbed every coach and business from here to Philadelphia? What would my Jeffrey be doing working for him?"

"I wish I knew, Hilary." She decided not to mention the Crimson Blade's midnight invitation. "I'd like to know how he got the lights off all at once."

They ducked into what appeared to be the dining room. A long, long table stretched from one side of the room to the other. It was mostly empty, except for a silver vase of fresh flowers in the center, the guests having eaten earlier in the evening.

"Well," sighed Elizabeth, "they're not here. Maybe we could check..."

"Miss Roberts!" Kurt Holstrom followed them into the room. He was a big blond man with a round face and watery blue eyes. He had a thick mustache and thin gold hair under a German soldier's polished helmet. "It's so nice to see you again. Your stories have been bringing in quite a bit of money for my presses. And Lady Booth," he kissed Hilary's hand, "it's good to finally meet the most charming noblewoman in all the colonies."

Hilary preened. "Thank you, Mr. Holstrom. For a publisher of penny press novels and newspapers, you certainly know how to please a woman."

Holstrom turned his attention to Elizabeth. "And you've done such amazing things with your stories. Before you started writing, our Captain Amazon character used to be some goody-two-shoes patriot who solved everyone's problems with a speech about General Washington or the American cause. You made him a soldier of fortunue, loner who doesn't look for trouble unless it comes looking for him."

Elizabeth stiffened. "I had a friend who died for the Patriot cause, Mr. Holstrom. Victor Comstock was killed while helping General Washington's army in Boston."

"I'm sorry I said something so insensitive, Miss Roberts. Master Comstock was a good man." He shook his head. "I never did understand how he could be so stubborn about these silly Patriotic notions some people have. We're English citizens. The English provide everything for us. They fund our businesses. We belong to them."

Elizabeth thought this was as good of a time as any to address Scott's concerns. "Mr. Holstrom, I have to ask something about those billboards you wanted us to hang on the Inn."

Holstrom's face tightened, but he continued to smile. "Fire away."

"Mr. Sherwood claims he found codes in the billboards you gave us to hang on the Inn's walls." She pulled the advertisements out of the pocket in her dress. "They give orders for British saboteurs to blow up the ironworks and boat works in the village."

"I can guarantee you that message isn't intended for weary travelers," Hilary added.

Elizabeth's eyes widened even further when she saw Holstrom pull out a pistol. "You are quite clever, Miss Roberts. You and Mr. Sherwood." He grabbed Hilary's arm and held the pistol to her head. "It's a shame neither of you will live to get your findings to the authorities."

Elizabeth stepped back. "Scott was right. You are a spy!" She reached for the vase of flowers. "If you try anything on Hilary, I'll...I'll use this on you!"

"Please tell me that isn't Plan A," Hilary moaned.

"No, this is!" A sword slashed the hand holding the pistol. Hilary ducked away as Holstrom dropped the pistol, grabbing his hand. Elizabeth turned to face a tall, lean figure dressed all in black. Even with his face shaded by a hood, Elizabeth could tell he was livid. "Get your hands off my wife!"

"Jeffrey!" Hilary ran over to him. He gently pushed her behind the table.

"We're going to settle this like gentlemen, Holstrom." He tossed a sword to Holstrom. "Engarde, you yellow-bellied traitor!"

It was quite obvious that the rotund Holstrom was outmatched by the lean, taught, and very angry Lord Singer. Jeff finally got the sword out of his hand and him against the table. "Hilary, help me tie him to the chair." He looked up at Elizabeth. "Liz, get those papers to the police, quickly!"

Elizabeth didn't stop to ask questions. She hurried down the hall and across the ballroom, her gossamer wings and white gown trailing behind her like a silken mist. The ballroom was now lit, but the Crimson Blade and his people seemed to be gone.

Mackie was talking to Lady Penelope, a small, pretty woman with reddish curls and an enormous gray silk gown trimmed with fine white lace and bows. She asked them if they'd seen the guards, but they were really too busy with their conversation to listen.

She made her way out to the garden. The cool fall air hit her like a giant fan after the stuffy heat of the ballroom. It cleared her mind, helped her think. _I have to find the police, or the military. They'd know what to do with this!_

"Penny for your thoughts, Miss Roberts?" Governor Pruitt staggered into the garden. He yanked at her hand. "I think they're worth far more than that, especially if they're about me."

She pulled her hand away. "No, Your Lordship. I was just thinking that I need to find the local militia branch. I have some...information...I need to give them."

"What's so important that such a fair sprite has to fly away from the ball this early?" He managed to waddle closer to her. She could smell his overpowering perfumes. "You never did give me that dance." His fingers were inching closer to her leg...and the pocket with the codes. "I think I'll take it now."

Elizabeth was about to scream when Pruitt suddenly jumped away from her. He rubbed his back. "Why did you have to poke so damnably hard, you lowly Irish scoundrel?"

"'Tis the only way I could keep your wandering snake's tail from squeezing the life out of that poor lass." He pointed his sword at Pruitt. "Besides, I'm not the only scoundrel here. You're just as much of a thief and a liar as I am. You merely hide your activities under a veneer of respectability."

"While you're a brazen criminal and outlaw." He pulled out his sword. "I'll enjoy dispatching you right here and now!" Pruitt lunged for the Crimson Blade, but he was ready for him. He ducked away easily.

Elizabeth stayed by the rose bushes. She was surprised at how agile a fencer Pruitt was. He gave the Crimson Blade far more of a challenge than Holstrom had given Jeff. The two jumped all around the garden benches and arbors, lunging and slashing. The Crimson Blade pushed one of the benches onto Pruitt, finally getting him on the ground long enough to hurry to the wide-eyed girl in the white gown. "We're still meeting at midnight?" he whispered.

Elizabeth could only nod. "Yes."

"Good." He kissed her hand fervently. "You go get those codes to General Washington's men. I'll find the others."

"How did he know about the codes?" Elizabeth was so lost in thought, she didn't see where the Crimson Blade went to.

She was still distracted when she came back into the ballroom. Scott Sherwood was talking to James Crowley, the owner of the Weeping Joker Inn. "Oh, hi Liz." He grinned. "Exciting night, huh? Even if it did cost me my second-best pair of cufflinks. That Crimson Blade sure is somethin' else."

"Good thing jesters aren't supposed to wear jewels," fussed Crowley. "They couldn't rip anything off of me. I can't believe something would happen at a ball this size in this day and age!" He turned to Scott. "About sharing new ideas and staff, Sherwood..."

Scott looked for his infamous pocket watch, only to see that it was missing. "Darn it, look like they got that, too. Oh well." He smiled at Crowley. "I have to get this beautiful and charming lady home. Shall we discuss this tomorrow at my office?"

Crowley nodded. "Ten o'clock sharp, Sherwood, and none of your malarkey."

Mackie and Maple joined them. Maple let out a wail. "Oooh, the Crimson Blade, they took my only good necklace! I am so...how you say it...behind myself!"

Mackie patted her hand. "That's ok, hon. C.J n' I will get you home."

Scott took Elizabeth's arm. "Shall we, Miss Roberts?"

She smiled up at him. There was something familiar about his smile... "We shall."


	8. Chapter 7

**The Garden of the Monongahela Inn, Later That Night**

Elizabeth Roberts sat on the stone bench under the cherry tree, now wearing a simpler brick-red dress. Gulliver's Travels, one of her favorite books, sat next to her. She couldn't sleep, and since it was such a nice night, she decided to get an early start on waiting for the Crimson Blade. She wondered how he could fall for her after only two meetings. _There's something about him,_ she thought. _It's like...I know him. His voice...the pocket watch...where have I seen and heard them before?_

She was still wondering when she heard something rustling in the bushes behind her. It was a still night. Not a single breeze ruffled the yellowing leaves of the cherry tree. She gulped. She couldn't take any more surprises after her long night. Scott went to deliver the codes, saying he'd let her take care of the Inn while he, Hilary, Jeff, and the others dealt with the military. None of them had returned yet. Gertrude, Mr. Eldridge, Mackie, and Maple were all asleep in the servants' quarters.

"Hello?" She gazed into the bushes. "Is anyone there?" She thought she saw...no, she couldn't have. A long, sad-eyed face, with dark eyes and thinning brown hair. One that should have perished in Boston. "Victor?"

"Hello, Elizabeth." Victor Comstock finally stepped out from behind the bushes. He looked almost exactly the same, in his simple gray suit with silver trim and tri-corn hat. "I'm home."

"You...you..." Elizabeth was so surprised, she could barely speak. "You're dead!"

"Yes, but I'm feeling a lot better now."

Elizabeth could scarcely believe it. "Victor Comstock died in a riot in Boston."

"That's what the government told you." He sat on the bench and gestured for her to do the same. "I was merely knocked unconscious during the riot. When I recovered, I had several visits from General George Washington and officials of the American military. They believed I would be the perfect man to spy on the British for them."

"But you're a civilian innkeeper!"

"And as an innkeeper, I was privy to certain information from military generals and British officials who stayed in our rooms and watched our plays." He took her hand. "Elizabeth, you cannot reveal to anyone here what I'm telling you tonight. We could both be in grave danger if my position was discovered."

"I swear I won't." She leaned into his gentle, safe arms. "What is your position?"

"They want me to write pamphlets and newspaper articles for the British under the pen name of Johnathan Arnold."

Elizabeth gasped. "But...he's the man who has been writing horrible things about the American colonies, insulting them and all those who think the colonies should be independent!"

He nodded. "Several men have been doing the writing, including me. They want me to do it exclusively now. The British consider me to be an embittered journalist from Boston who has let his sympathies be known to the right people. They think I'm here to finish my affairs." He sighed. "Maybe I am."

"You'll still be in Boston," Elizabeth reminded him. "I know how difficult things have been there. You could be..."

"Killed again?" He held her closer. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. I want all people in this country to have a say in how they govern themselves. The taxes and repression placed by King George and the English nobles who run the colonies is unfair to all."

Elizabeth held him close. "Can't I tell at least some of the others about you? They were mourning you, too. Especially Scott Sherwood. He took your death so hard."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "Who's Scott Sherwood? I don't remember anyone by that name." The two heard insistent rustling in the trees."I have to meet my contact in a few minutes. Elizabeth..."

That was when they heard more rustling. Victor kissed her as hard as he could. The moment he stepped into the bushes, she passed out on the soft grass.

Victor didn't know one other person saw him that night. Maple Martienne was sneaking through the bushes, carrying a burlap bag overflowing with shiny objects. She was tugging her black cape away from a rose bush when she saw a tall, handsome, slightly balding man in a gray suit dart away and over the fence surrounding the garden. "Oooh lah lah," she gasped. "He is tres beau! I wonder who he is?" She finally continued on to the basement...but her thoughts were on the handsome fellow in the garden.

Elizabeth came to in another pair of strong, safe arms. These were a lot stronger than Victor's, though...and a lot more red. She looked into the hooded eyes of the Crimson Blade. "'Tis quite a scare you be givin' me, Miss Roberts! I thought I saw you in the arms of another man!"

Elizabeth smiled wanly. "Oh, no. I was just...talking to myself."

He helped her onto the bench. "I swear it sounded like a man."

She indicated the book next to her. "I was just reading out loud." She shouldn't have let him pull her into his arms, but she'd had a long night. She just needed someone to be there. "How could you love me? You don't know me! We have nothing in common."

"We have more in common than you might want to think, lass." He stroked her hair. "We both care about the people of this village, and this Inn."

"Why do you care? You're an outlaw and a thief!" She looked up at his dark eyes. "Who are you? Why do you hide under that hood?"

He ran a gloved hand over her soft, pink cheek. "I canna tell ye, lass."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Lass, if you were to be harmed by someone like Pruitt or Holstrom, I could never forgive myself." He gently lifted her chin to his lips. "Elizabeth, I..."

A clanging noise interrupted them. Elizabeth looked up to see Eugenia and Mr. Foley stumbling towards her. Eugenia's bonnet was hanging off her head, and she was sweating like ice on a hot day. Mr. Foley seemed dazed under his makeshift armor. "Oh, hello there, Elizabeth!" Eugenia trilled. "What are you doing out here alone at this time of night?"

"Just reading to myself, Eugenia." She wasn't surprised to see that the Crimson Blade was gone. _I wish he'd linger for more than five minutes!_

"We thought we saw a man with you!"

"Oh no! That was...just shadows."

"Oh." Eugenia beamed. "Well, that explains everything! Mr. Foley here is going to walk me to my room. We had such a wonderful time at the ball tonight, even if I did lose my necklace. Would you like to come with us, Elizabeth?"

She shook her head. "I think I'll stay out here a little longer."

"Suit yourself." Elizabeth chuckled as Mr. Foley lead Eugenia through the back door of the Inn, clanging all the way. She leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes, dreaming of the two most charming, bravest men she'd ever known.

 **Lady Hilary and Lord Jeffery's Room, An Hour Later**

Lady Hilary, now dressed in her nightclothes, was glaring at her husband as he came in the room. "All right, Jeffrey Singer. Would you please tell me what you and that crafty knave of a Sherwood have been doing out so late at night? And why in the name of _The Beggar's Opera_ did you steal my tiara?"

He handed her a box. "Here's your tiara and your jewels, and my rings, too. I told you we'd get them back. We returned everything we stole from the staff of the Inn."

"You stole your own things?"

"We had to make it look good." He sat next to Hilary. "Mittens, I can't tell you all of it, but...you deserve to at least know part of what we're doing."

Hilary pulled her husband closer to her on the bed. She ran her fingers through his curls. "Tell me what you know, Pumpkin."


	9. Chapter 8

**Isabella Street, Three Days Later**

Scott Sherwood was feeling rather pleased with himself. He'd come up with at least two newspapers who wanted to advertise the Inn. He'd deposited more money in the account he set up for Victor Comstock's causes, including some from the Sweet Tack and Feed Store across town. He even helped Hilary and Jeff set up a play they were hoping would go to New York, though they never did decide if it should be a comedy or a drama.

The one fly in the ointment was Elizabeth Roberts. She'd been avoiding him for the last few days. On the rare occasion she did talk to him, she was distant and cold. He couldn't figure it out. What was wrong with that girl? She almost seemed to be warming up to him before. He closed his eyes, remembering the ball...and everything that happened after it...

He sighed. No time for that mushy stuff now. He had an inn to run. He was looking forward to a lunch of Gertrude's delicious steak and kidney pie and fresh vegetables from the garden with Elizabeth. As he rounded the corner, he noticed a fancy carriage parked in the Inn's small stable. _Ahh,_ he thought, _a wealthy traveler. Wonder if I could sell him some shares in seaside property in the western Pennsylvania Colony?_

Gertrude, Mr. Eldridge, and Eugenia met him at the front desk. Elizabeth was at the desk as well, studying what appeared to be a book and a paper. Gertrude held out a bottle to him. "Mr. Sherwood, have some wine! We're all having some!"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "So I see. What's going on?"

"There's a man here to see you." Gertrude hiccuped. "He said it was of the utmost importance that he talks to you right away." She nearly fell over him. "And that it would be something worth celebrating."

Scott grinned at Elizabeth. "I know something worth celebrating. Want to share some steak and kidney pie after I get rid of this guy? We could discuss the funds for Victor's causes."

Elizabeth put the paper back in her pocket. "I'll help you with the new customer, but don't get ideas. I'm not doing anything else with you."

Scott's grin fell as they made their way to his office. "Elizabeth, what's wrong with you? You've been treating me like the dirt under your fingernails ever since the day after the ball!"

She fingered the paper in her pocket. "I still think you should return that money to the owners, before you or all of us land in jail."

"Elizabeth, I know what I'm doing. Trust me, nothing is going to happen. No one will ever know."

Scott opened the door to the office, letting Elizabeth in first. He followed her...and immediately wished he hadn't. Governor Pruitt, resplendent in a fine navy blue suit with silver and black braiding and a flowing white shirt heavy with ruffles, leaned against his desk. Scott fought the urge to push the smirking snake off of it. A smaller, red-haired woman in a dowdy olive-green suit sat in his chair.

"Governor!" He turned on his wide grin, but it felt as false as Pruitt's smile looked. "Well, this is a surprise! What can I do for you, sir? Are you here to discuss the Inn's customers? Our trade has really been increasing lately."

"So I've heard." Pruitt's throaty chuckle made Elizabeth shiver. "Miss Cosgrave and I have been going over the books for this little operation of yours. And we've found out some very interesting things relating to the late Victor Comstock."

Elizabeth tried to suppress a gasp. "What...things, Your Lordship?"

"Oh, about the money that's been deposited for the Patriotic causes he supported by Master Sherwood here." He circled Scott, whose smile looked increasingly desperate. "Now, how could a man who came to this little spot with nothing more than the clothes on this back suddenly drum up more than three thousand dollars to give to the causes of someone he barely knew?"

"You'd be surprised how much money a guy can earn." Scott's grin was faltering. "Why don't you and I go out and discuss this over lunch at the Buttery Tavern? I'm sure we could come to some kind of agreement..."

Pruitt pushed him against the wall. "Oh no you don't, Mr. Sherwood. Your charlatan ways may have gotten you past your guests and the staff of this inn, but they won't work on me. I've known far too many knaves like you. You'll be staying right here at the Inn while we conduct a surprise audit."

Elizabeth could only describe Scott's expression as one of sheer terror.

 **The Green Parlor Room, Two Hours Later**

Mackie Bloom stormed into the parlor. The rest of the residents and staff were already there, finishing lunch. "The Governor himself told me. Scott Sherwood is gone. He fired him. And if we don't like that, we'll be either fired, or thrown out onto the street with him."

Lady Hilary dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. "I'm not entirely sure I care. Scott Sherwood's never been terribly respectful of mine and Jeff's noble status or of any of us residents."

Lord Jeff sipped a cup of raspberry leaf tea. "I'm of two minds on this. On one hand, Scott Sherwood was a con man and a liar. You could never believe a word he said, and he was always ready to sell us all out for the fastest money he could make." He shook his head. "On the other hand, if we let Pruitt get away with this, it could be our rooms or jobs on the line next."

"Mr. Sherwood took that money to give to the causes of one of our former residents," Eugenia insisted. "Doesn't that make him a resident too, even if he didn't live here?"

"Monsieur Sherwood is mon ami," Maple added. "He has been for many years. He may lie too much and try to cover it, but deep under himself, he is bon homme, a good man."

Mackie nodded. "It's settled. If Sherwood's out, we're all out."

Elizabeth looked up from studying the paper. "Do you all think you know Scott Sherwood well enough to defend him like this?"

"Aw, come on, Liz," Mackie insisted. "We're in this together. We all live and work here."

Hilary frowned. "If we quit or give up our rooms, Pruitt will just bring in more people to replace us."

Mackie shook a finger. "Oh, no. Not if we try some new idea I heard about from the guys at the iron works. It's called a strike."

 **The Manager's Office, the Next Morning**

Governor Rolleigh Pruitt was not a happy man. He arrived at his inn that morning to find the rooms a mess, the beds unmade, no breakfast on the table, and the staff refusing to lift a finger to do anything. The maid vanished the moment he asked her to bring him his newspaper. The little valet only gave him dirty looks. Lord and Lady Singer snubbed him. The two music teachers played discordant notes whenever he drew near their rooms. The messenger boy wouldn't deliver his letters.

He stormed into what was now his office. Scott Sherwood sat in the chair in front of the desk, looking unusually subdued. He wore a plain beige shirt and tan vest and held an unadorned black tri-corn hat, a far cry from his bright suits and heavily plumed headgear. His dark eyes were downcast, and his silver-black hair was a tousled, uncombed mess.

"You're lucky I decided not to press charges." Pruitt slithered behind the desk. "I demand that you talk to your friends among the staff and residents. They refuse to do their work or tend to the customers. They're trying to devalue the cost of this property. If they don't start behaving, they'll be joining you on the street."

Scott finally looked up at Pruitt with a despondent, beaten expression. "I don't care what you do to me, but I don't want you to hurt them. I'll tell them."

He did tell them. At least, what he needed them to know. He gathered all the residents and staff and said he'd gotten another job in Philadelphia at the Schuylkill Inn. He wasn't sure how much they bought his story, especially Maple, but it was something.

Mr. Eldridge met him in the hall. "Elizabeth wants to talk to you in her room. She says it's something about a letter and a book Master Comstock gave to me." He chuckled. "I don't know why she'd be interested in that, unless she loves limericks, too."

Elizabeth was sitting at her desk when Scott knocked on the door. "It's open."

"Hi there, Liz." He tried to smile. "What was it you wanted to see me about?"

She brought him to her desk. "Mr. Eldridge said you brought this book with you to the Inn, along with that letter of recommendation from Victor." Her face hardened. "First of all, that letter is entirely too gushing. It sounds like something you wrote to flatter yourself. Second, the signatures on the letter and the book are identical. No signature is ever exactly alike. One signature is forged from the other."

Scott pulled up a chair next to her. "Liz...Elizabeth...I...I did forge the signature. I was a mercenary for hire who met Comstock in a bar and told him I'd take his mail to Pittsburgh for him. I heard him talk about a sweet, beautiful, smart girl who could run a whole inn on her own and still have time to write stories. I listened to him, and I thought...what would it be like to have a woman like Elizabeth Roberts in my life?"

Elizabeth slapped Scott hard before he could wonder any further. She threw open the door. "I knew from the moment I met you that you could never be a friend of Victor's. You haven't a noble bone in your body. I ignored my instincts because I thought Victor saw something in you...but he didn't. You were nothing to him. You don't care about anyone but yourself. Right now, the staff and residents are on some strike thing, all because of you. They could lose their homes!"

"I already told them to stop." He stood, playing with his hat. "I never planned on staying here this long. I was ready to leave when Victor Comstock died. Everyone just fell apart after that, including you. Someone had to keep this place moving." He handed Elizabeth his keys to the Inn. "You're in charge of these now when Pruitt is out of town. Good bye, Elizabeth." Elizabeth watched, confused and hurt, as he walked away.

And then...Scott Sherwood was standing in her doorway again. "Oh, what the hell." He drew her into his arms and kissed her. He kissed her passionately, like she'd never been kissed by anyone before, including Victor. She stared down the hallway after him.

 **The Manager's Office, A Few Minutes Later**

Governor Pruitt watched Scott leave out the window of the office. He turned his delighted smirk to Priscilla Cosgrave, his right-hand woman. "That's one nuisance taken care of." He narrowed his eyes. "If only all our problems were so easily eliminated. That Crimson Blade and his people got away with more than a half-million dollars of jewelry from guests and money from my vault at the Ball. They humiliated me in front some of the most important people in the Pennsylvania Colony!"

"Don't forget what happened to Kurt Holstrom." Mistress Cosgrave pulled out a newspaper and indicated the front page headline. "He was arrested for spying and attempted sabotage. He was one of our most influential members."

Pruitt snorted. "He was a bloody fool. I told him putting the codes in the house-side advertisements was too obvious. We'll have to find another way to get our messages across."

Miss Cosgrave held out an envelope. "R.P, I got a letter today from...her. She's back in town. The owner of the Ursula Gothel, that, er, smuggling ship." She pursed her lips in distaste. "What you want with that vile German woman is beyond me."

"Ahh, Pavla DeVile." He took the letter. "She'll come in handy. You have so little imagination, Cosgrave." His smirk was evident. "Very handy indeed."


	10. Chapter 9

**The Lobby, the Next Morning**

Lord Jeffrey Singer couldn't help but notice that there was quite a crowd around the front desk. Gertrude, Mr. Eldridge, Maple Martienne the maid, and Mackie Bloom were all reading over what appeared to be a stack of newspapers and pamphlets. Every single one of them looked angrier than a pack of wet hens. Maple was going on in a litany of French curse words Jeff was glad he didn't understand.

"What's got all of you so riled up this morning?"

Gertrude handed him one of the pamphlets. "It's one of those papers from that...that Jonathan Arnold! The newspaper man who writes for the British. He says that we colonists ought to give up trying to be free and let the English run ragged all over us!"

Mackie nodded. "This guy is a grade-A sleaze. None of this is true!"

Jeff frowned as he read the paper over. "You don't think he's really a colonist, do you?"

Maple finally returned to English long enough to spit out "Non, Lord Jeffrey! Of course, he cannot be a colonist. He is just nasty homme hired by le Roi George to make colonists stay with Angleterre."

Jeff grabbed the paper. The more he read, the angrier he became. "I was at Boston. I heard them announce the Indecent Acts, I was working with the government..."

"And you nearly got killed while doing so." Gertrude shook her head. "No one's given more for the American cause than you, Your Lordship."

Jeff looked up at the painting over the desk. "One man did," he reminded them softly. "Victor Comstock gave his life."

Mr. Eldridge took Jeff's pamphlet. "I need to get Elizabeth. She wanted to read these awful pamphlets as soon as they arrived."

Elizabeth came into the room just in time to hear Maple say "They ought to hang that petit Anglaise traitre!"

"No!" Elizabeth was surprised no one recognized Victor Comstock's florid writing style. "What if he has a good reason for doing this?"

Mackie rolled his eyes. "Why would anyone have a good reason for making the entire Pennsylvania Colony hate him?"

Jeff turned to Gertrude. "I need to get a hold of C.J and have him send a message to General Washington."

Gertrude nodded. "Certainly, Your Lordship. I've lost my appetite for breakfast anyhow."

 **Lord Jeffrey and Lady Hilary's Room, That Evening**

"No, Pumpkin!" Hilary grabbed his folded shirt. "I refuse to allow you to go!"

Jeff grabbed the shirt back. "Hilary, just because we're married doesn't mean you own me."

"Of course not." She grabbed another shirt and handed it to him. "You forgot this one."

"Oh." He finally closed the small trunk. "Hilary, I swear, it'll only be a few weeks."

"That's what you said the last time. May I remind you that after your last trip to Boston, you came back with bruised ribs and a damaged knee...and one of your closest friends didn't come back at all?"

"I know it's dangerous there right now. I can't promise I won't get hurt...but I can promise I'll do what I can to get back to you." He took her in his arms and kissed her.

There was a knock on the door as they separated. Jeff opened it to reveal Elizabeth. "Your Lordship, your carriage is outside." She shook her head. "I don't know what we're going to do here without you. Mackie and Mr. Eldridge will be taking over your chores in the kitchen and gardens and your roles in the plays as well as their own until we can hire a replacement."

"Pumpkin, no!" Hilary grabbed rope from her pocket and tied their hands together. "I'm not letting you go anywhere!"

Jeff just grinned. "Wait. Where did you get this?"

"From your side of the desk. Goodness only knows where it came from...and I suspect that goodness probably doesn't factor into what you were going to do with it."

"My side?" Jeff deftly undid the knot...then tied Hilary's wrist to the leg of their bed. "Then I'm gone, my love!" He kissed her again, but this time, Hilary wasn't as amused.

"Then untie me, too!"

"You can untie yourself after I leave." He rushed downstairs with his luggage, yelling "Just a few weeks, Mittens!"

Hilary's "PUUUMMPKIIINNNNN!" could be heard throughout the entire inn, even as Elizabeth did her best to untie the knots.

 **The Green Parlor Room, the Next Day**

Elizabeth, Lady Hilary, Maple, Gertrude, and Eugenia sat in the green parlor room, all looking frustrated. They'd been interviewing new workers and actors all morning. Not a single person had all the qualifications they needed. In fact, most could barely act their way out of a burlap bag and didn't know a scrub brush from a play script.

"I just hope you're all appreciating how irreplaceable my Jeff is," Hilary sniffed. "He can weed a garden, scrub a pot until it shines like the noonday sun, and he makes the handsomest Mackheath in all of Pittsburgh. I don't think we'll find anyone who can perform like him."

"You're going to have to." Mackie stumbled in, collapsing in a chair next to Maple. "I can't keep workin' the whole Inn by myself an' playin' roles with Hilary! I can't even remember what I'm sayin' half the time!"

Elizabeth nodded. "The next person who walks through that door and even remotely fits the qualifications is hired, if only for Mackie's sake." She turned to C.J, who stood at the door. "Bring us the next candidate." She was too busy studying her notes to see the grin on C.J's face or the delighted expressions on the most of the others. "All right. Have you ever weeded a garden, tended to a stable, appeared in any kind of play, scrubbed pots and pans, done dishes, dusted, or done any kind of domestic chores?"

Her head shot up when she heard a voice with a mild Irish lilt she knew very well. "I've done just about everything there is possible to do in the colonies, Lizzie Lizzie Lizzie."

She finally looked up and into a familiar pair of warm brown eyes. "Scott Sherwood." It was him, all right. He wore the beige shirt and tan vest she'd last seen him in, but he'd brushed his hair and added a jaunty rust-colored feather to his hat. A small, battered leather trunk lay next to his heavy boots. "What are you doing here? I was told you went to Philadelphia."

"I changed my mind. What's Philly got that Pittsburgh Village doesn't have?" His grin widened. "I have everything I need right here."He nudged the valise with the side of his boot. "I did have to give up my rooms after I lost my job, though. Do you have anything open for a weary traveler?"

Elizabeth frowned. "If you take this job, you'll be living in the servants' quarters in the back with Maple, Mackie, Gertrude, and Mr. Eldridge."

"Sounds good to me." Scott chuckled. "It's a room, anyway."

"You also know this job doesn't pay anywhere near what you made as a manager."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Elizabeth turned to the others. "What do all of you think?"

Hilary sighed. "Well, we do need the help...and I'm sure Mr. Sherwood will be no worse or better at it than anyone in the village."

The others were already surrounding Scott with hugs and smiles. "Thanks, Lady Hildy!"

"It's Lady Hilary, Mr. Sherwood. Or, in your case," she sniffed, "Your Ladyship."

 **The Kitchen, the Next Day**

Scott Sherwood was late. Somehow, Elizabeth wasn't surprised. When he did appear, he overplayed his role as a kindly gardener in the rehearsal for Lady Hilary's drawing room comedy, turning a comic story of manners into a steamy romance...and completely upsetting Her Ladyship. Hilary sputtered and fizzled, finally insisting to Elizabeth that he be banned from her sight for the rest of the morning.

Elizabeth almost literally shoved him into the kitchen. "Go help Maple get the pots and pans clean, before Her Ladyship strangles you in front of our guests."

He bowed low before her. "I'll make these pots shine so hard, you'll be able to eat off of them."

"That's the idea." She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Maple was already loading the buckets they used to wash dishes. "Bonjour, Scott," she greeted with a smile. "I think this is our first time working together in legal job, oui?"

"I think you're right." Maple watched him as he rolled up his sleeves and lifted a stack of heavy copper pots.

"Scott?"

He started scrubbing at the first pot on the pile with a large brush. "Yeah, Mapes?"

"We have been friends a long time, oui?"

"Sure!" He pushed hard at a particularly caked-on spot.

She put the dish she'd finished in a stack next to her. "You never left Pittsburgh, did you? You make up job in Philadelphia."

"Where did you hear that?" He put the pot aside and took a large copper pan covered in grease.

"Oh, this place and that place." She watched him. "It is not just Crimson Blade, or becoming manager again. It is Elizabeth. You want to get back into her bon grace."

Scott stared at the pot he was scrubbing. "You know, speaking of the Crimson Blade, maybe he'd better take some time off for a while. I think Pruitt is starting to get ideas. He already raised the price on his head to fifteen thousand dollars."

Maple raised her eyebrows. "No Crimson Blade? What about..."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, there would still be a Crimson Blade." He winked at her. "Maple, red is really your color."

"Moi?" Her eyes widened. "But how could I..."

"I know you can do it. I taught you everything I know." He tossed the pot on the stack. "Piece of cake!"

 **The Docks of the Monongahela River, Later That Day**

Priscilla Cosgrave normally did not question her boss' commands...but for once in her life, she wished he'd do his own dirty work. Why couldn't he deliver this letter? This unsavory part of the village was no place for a lady. She could hear raucous laughter coming from the bars situated along the riverfront. At least three weather-beaten sailors in threadbare clothes had made lewd gestures at her.

The Ursula Gothel was a large, gaudy vessel, painted in unseemly shades of sea green and brilliant blue. Cosgrave wrinkled her nose at the crude carving of a half-naked mermaid that was used as a figurehead.

"Frouline Cosgrave?" The woman who came down from the gangplank wore tight-fitting trousers and a bright yellow blouse that was open to reveal every bit of her curves. Her long, blondish-brown hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck in a loose bun. Her slanted eyes and exotic features were pulled into a sly smile. "I believe you have something for me." She spoke in a heavy German accent.

She thrust the letter into her hands. "I don't know why you can't find a better place to tie up your ship. I'm lucky I haven't been robbed...or worse!"

"I don't think any of the sailors here would be interested in a woman of your qualities." She opened the letter. "I suppose your boss thinks I'll do another job for him."

"That was the idea."

She read the letter. A slow, evil smile spread across her face. "Yes. I think I might enjoy this. Tell your...employer...I would love to meet this Lord Jeffrey Singer in Boston." Her smile grew into a nasty smirk. "And perhaps, even have a talk about his formidable wife who isn't."

 **The Market Square at Pittsburgh Village, Two Months Later**

Elizabeth loved Christmastide at Pittsburgh Village. The marketplace was filled with so many sights and sounds! Her basket was filled with holly, greenery, and bread and pastries for the Inn's Christmastide dinner party.

It was such a beautiful day, most of the staff and residents of the Inn had opted to join at Pittsburgh Village's weekly market. Mackie and C.J were buying their meat. Maple had gone to get pastries and bread from the baker's cart. She was buying decorations for the Inn. While there were few produce carts at this time of the year, carts selling just about everything else imaginable, from local crafts to meats from the hog and cattle farmers outside of Pittsburgh, could be found on the streets

Lady Hilary's mind wasn't on the festivities. Elizabeth had insisted she come along, if only to get her mind off of Jeff. Hilary hadn't had a letter from him in weeks. Everyone at the Inn was worried, Lady Hilary most of all. They all remembered what happened the last time he was working in Boston.

"He'll be all right, Hilary," Elizabeth said gently. "I'm sure of it. He's a big boy. He knows what he's doing. Besides, it's hard to get mail out of Boston right now, and there's all those brigands on the road."

Hilary was only half-looking at the bolt of green velvet cloth spread across the table. "He said it would only be a few weeks, and he still hasn't come home." She focused on the cloth, but her eyes were far away. "This is the first Christmastide we haven't spent together in five years. I miss him so much..."

"It must be hard for you." Elizabeth sighed. "I miss..." She checked herself before she mentioned a man who was supposed to be dead. "I miss people, too."

"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!" Scott Sherwood strode up to them, his red jacket and plumed hat standing out in the crowd. Elizabeth just sighed. Scott had tried to stick to her side since he took the job at the Inn. To give him some credit, he'd actually gotten pretty good at it, other than changing lines in the plays more often than Hilary preferred. He was certainly useful in the kitchen. The pots had never shown brighter. "How are the two prettiest ladies in Pittsburgh Village this morning?"

"What do you want, Scott?" Elizabeth knew him well enough by now to tell when he had some devious scheme in mind.

He put his arms around the two women. "Hilary, I just had a wonderful idea for that play we were doing today, 'The Hands of Time.' I thought we could get rid of all that boring romance stuff. I think what people want right now is a good, stirring story about politics."

Hilary glared at him. "You leave my starring plays alone, you crafty, conniving con-man of a Sherwood! You're just a kitchen worker! You have no longer have any authority over me, no more than...than a pirate would have over a king!"

Maple, who was nibbling on Shrewsbury cakes from the baker's cart, joined them. "Someday, Your Ladyship, perhaps being a fancy lady will not matter so much, oui?"

Hilary finally threw up her hands. "None of you have any respect for my status! I am one of the Booths, one of the finest noble families in England...until we had to leave, due to...one or two dalliances I won't mention here." She stormed off, towards one of the houses on the square. Perhaps a chat with her dear old friend Earl Giels of Aldrych would soothe her jangled nerves.

She had only gotten a few paces when she heard pistol fire in the square. She turned around...and ran smack into the barrel of a gun. "Not again!" she groaned. "What is with you men who continually insist on threatening my person?"

These men were hardly respectable publishers, though. They were hulking, grizzled sots in the striped shirts, tattered trousers, and grimy stocking caps of buccaneers straight out of illustrations in the penny press. "Well, hello there, baby cakes," leered the tallest one. His hairy arms were long and ape-like, ending in a huge, heavy fist that held a battered pistol. "You look like a right rich bird, girlie."

"GIRLIE!" She sputtered. "Do you _know_ who I _am_?"

One of the pirates ogled her from behind. "You look like someone with a lot of dough to me."

Two more were braying like a pair of exceedingly unattractive donkeys. "I bet she'd bring the boss a lotta money. She's someone they'd pay top dollar for."

Hilary was starting to step back. "Now, gentlemen, surely you wouldn't want to hold me for ransom!"

She backed right into another one. He took her purse and pulled her arms behind her back. "I'm almost starting to miss Holstrom and his pistol. At least he smelled somewhat civilized. You reek of tobacco, limes, and old sweat."

Hilary's eyes widened as another pirate joined them...but this didn't look like any pirate she'd ever seen. This "pirate" was tall, slender, and willowy. Her exotic dark eyes gazed at her under languid lids. She wore a tight-fitting red and blue dress and a cunning cap with a blue ribbon. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Her voice was a soft German drawl. "If it isn't Lady Hilary Booth herself, the former wife of Lord Jeffrey Singer."

"Former?" Hilary snarled. "You watch what you say about my husband, you predatory river shark!"

"I'm not talking about your husband, Your Ladyship. I'm talking about mine." She turned to the man who held Hilary. "Bring her to the waterfront. I have a letter to her from her ex-husband that may interest her. I'll write the ransom note for her friends." She smirked. "The rest of you, take whatever booty you can find and bring it to the ship within the hour."

Hilary struggled and let out a scream, but the man hauled her off. Captain Pavla DeVile followed, smirking.

The pirates had started to spread across the market, knocking over booths and wrecking havoc. They stole food, threw it at people and each other, and grabbed at jewelry and purses. Scott immediately pushed Elizabeth behind his back. "Liz, go see if you can find the others and get the guards. I can take these guys."

"Want some help, Sherwood?" Mackie stepped next to him. "I'm pretty handy in a fight. I've had to deal with my fair share of bar brawls at the Buttery Tavern."

"The more the merrier, Mackie!" Scott lunged for the first guy who tried to reach for Elizabeth's purse and basket of greenery. Mackie aimed a right hook at a shorter guy next to him.

Maple and C.J ducked into the doorway of the bakery. C.J nodded at the squall in the square. Scott was starting to wear down. Mackie had been tackled by two guys and was on the ground. "Maple, I think now would be a good time to give Scott a hand. I'll go get the others."

"Oui, Monsieur Byrnes." Maple was grateful the baker had gone outside to take a look at the chaos. She untied her cloak, revealing a tight red blouse, then made for the bakery's second floor.

Elizabeth tried to make her way through the crowds. The market was a mess. The streets were slippery with debris from spilled carts and broken booths. She finally ducked behind an overturned pie cart. Eugenia was throwing the remaining pies at the pirates. Mr. Foley was more interested in eating one. His face was covered in reddish goo.

"Oh Elizabeth, this is awful!" Eugenia hit another pirate in the face with what looked like an apple cranberry pie. "Where did all these nasty pirates come from?"

"The wharf, I imagine." Elizabeth made a face. "I guess they aren't as well-patrolled as we'd been told."

Mackie jumped in with them. He had a black eye and his spectacles were half-hanging off his nose. "I thought things might be a little safer back here," he breathed as his fixed his glasses. "When those guys hit, they really hit below the belt!"

Elizabeth watched in horror as Scott was surrounded by a hoard of grotesque, hulking pirates. Two of them grabbed his arms; another hit him hard in the gut. He doubled over, but they forced him back to his feet.

She was about to run out to him when Mr. Foley tugged on her sleeve. "Mr. Foley, what is it?"

He pointed upwards...and at the four pirates leering over them. Eugenia screamed, throwing her last cream pie right into the face of the one reaching for her.

"HEY YOU GUYSSSS!" They all stood up, just in time to see someone swing down and into the crowd from the tall evergreen near the bakery. They swung right into the two men holding holding Scott, kicking them to the ground. They made a soft landing on a pile of pirates. More men in black with red belts rushed into the square.

"Are you all right?" Elizabeth could clearly see that the person was dressed like the Crimson Blade, in a red shirt and black trousers with a red belt and a hood...but they were a little shorter and far more slender than the Crimson Blade she knew. The way the shirt clung to her chest clearly indicated that this Crimson Blade was very, very female.

"Yeah, I'm all right Ma...Crimson Blade." He leaned over her ear. "I'll tell C.J to take the money around to the poor box at the church, then get the Inn staff out of here," he whispered. "You help the guys take care of the rest of these jerks."

"Sure, Sc...sir." She skewered two pirates with swords, then ducked around two more. The other people in black either dueled with pirates or knocked them out.

Scott got over to the cart just in time to see it topple onto three pirates. The fourth was wiping cream out of his eyes. Mackie, Elizabeth, Eugenia, and Mr. Foley hurried out from under it. "Good work, crew." He pulled out his infamous pocket watch as the governor's guards started to troop into the remains of the market. "Oh, would you look at the time? I think we need to get back to the Inn and let the governor's boys do what they do best."

Eugenia looked worried. "But where are the others? Hilary and Maple and C.J? I don't think we should leave without them!"

Scott shrugged. "I'm sure they'll turn up sometime."

The Crimson Blade followed the last remaining pirate to an alley near the docks. She finally cornered him by a barrel of herring. "I demand to know why you are making mess of nice market! And at Noel, too!"

"You don't tell me what to do, baby cakes." He lunged at her with his own sword, but he was unsteady and probably a little drunk. The Crimson Blade was quite sober. She easily got him against the barrel, holding her sword to his throat.

"What is it that you are doing here?" She pushed a little harder into his throat. "Tell me."

He thrust a note into her hands. "I'm supposed to give this to the friends of Lady Hilary Booth."

"I am her amie." She grabbed the paper. "I will take this to proper authors." She shoved him away. "Now, you get outta here, before I put this sword in place that will really hurt!"

She watched him run off towards the big, bright-colored ship across the wharf. As soon as he was gone, she opened the note and read it...and let out a yelp of anger before hurrying back towards the market.


	11. Chapter 10

**The Second Floor of O'Malley's Bar, At That Moment**

Lady Hilary stumbled when she was shoved into the small, poorly-lit room. It was barely big enough to contain a bed, a table, and some chairs. There was nothing homey about it at all, and she was relatively certain it was probably infested with one or more breeds of noxious animal life.

Another form of noxious animal life followed her into the room. "You!" Hilary hissed as Captain Pavla DeVile strode in. "You hussy of a sea witch! How dare you bring me to this...this filthy den of iniquity! I am Lady Hilary Booth, one of the London Booths, and I demand that you return me to my home this very minute, before I have you arrested and sent to the nearest scaffolding to dangle by that skinny neck of yours!"

"That isn't possible. My men are guarding the door. If you try to escape...well, they aren't as respectful of aristocratic actresses as I am."

"I don't see how you're being respectful. You're a lowly pirate. I am the wife of a..."

"No, you are not. You obviously do not know who you are." She handed her a letter. "This will tell you. You are the ex-Lady Singer."

Hilary read the letter over. "Life is too short not to know who I really am. I only pray we can remain caring, loving friends..." It took all her willpower not to cry. She finally turned a smirk to Pavla. "I can see your influence on him already. How long did it take you to get into his heart...and other important places, I'm sure?"

"Oh, I met Jeff at a party for several Congressmen at the home of the Massachusetts governor. He was such a sweet man. He swept me off my feet."

"He should have swept you into the Atlantic Ocean." She gave her the glare that sent every servant in the Monongahela Inn trembling. "Tell me, Pablum, if Jeff is still in Boston, what are you doing here?"

"It's Pavla," Captain DeVile snapped. She was not a woman who was easily cowed. "I'm pursuing a...sideline job, you might say. I am an actress."

"An actress." She laughed. "And Jeff is an actor with connections to quite a few government officials and major producers. Very convenient for you." She stood face-to-face with the exotic woman. "And what, pray tell, do you intend for me?"

"We are holding you for ransom. Your friends are to bring a certain...party...who is visiting the village today to me by midnight. If they refuse the request, you will die."

"You wouldn't kill me! That would kill your hold over Jeffrey. Even if he did marry another woman, he'd never approve of this!"

"Don't be too sure." Pavla DeVile turned on her three-inch-heels and strode out. Hilary could hear the door lock behind her. She managed to stand for a few minutes in shock before she finally crumpled to the bed, tears pouring down her cheeks.

 **The Docks at the Monongahela River, That Night**

Elizabeth had never felt so nervous. Every noise made her jump. The docks of Pittsburgh Village were rough territory during the day, never mind at night! She was glad Scott and C.J were there, too. The note had only said that Captain Pavla DeVile had Lady Hilary at O'Malley's Bar and would be willing to exchange her for an audience with the head of the same theater troupe Cecilia had left with. Evidently, she had a yen to be on the stage.

"This is crazy!" Elizabeth muttered as they entered the dilapidated building. "Why couldn't we have gotten her to bring Lady Hilary to the Inn?"

"We don't need to get the others involved in this." Scott took her hand. Elizabeth was so scared, she didn't bother to scold him for being forward.

"Did you tell him when to meet you?" C.J asked. Scott just nodded as they entered the bar.

The bar was typical of the Pittsburgh waterfront. The scarred wooden counter ran most of the length of the one room. A few battered tables and chairs made up the rest of the furnishings. Elizabeth was just grateful that it was empty at this hour. A woman in a tight red and blue suit with a matching blue tri-corn hat sat at one table. Scott addressed her first. "Captain DeVile?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm she." Her grin turned predatory. "Although you should address me by my real last name, Mrs. Singer."

Elizabeth stepped to Scott's side. "You said that in your note. How did it happen? I thought..."

"You thought wrong." She pulled out several papers. "You'll see it is all very above-board. Far more so than your so-called Lady and Lord's marriage in the Mexican colonies by the local butcher."

C.J lead another figure into the room. "Here he is, miss. The head of the troupe himself." Pavla's smirk became even more like a cat that ate the canary. It was a very small, old, and timid-looking man with a thin mustache. What she didn't see was Elizabeth and Scott exchange small, knowing smiles of their own.

"We kept our end of the deal, Captain." Elizabeth's voice sounded more steady than she felt. "Now you keep yours. Where is Lady Hilary Booth?"

"Oh, she's around here somewhere. I'll bring her out after I talk to Mr. Zanish here."

Elizabeth had to grit out a smile. "All right." She nodded. "Come on, Scott. Let's let them...talk."

Scott nodded. He, C.J, and Elizabeth made their way out. Scott turned to Elizabeth the moment they were in the alley next to the building. "You got your tools, Liz?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll write down everything Pavla says." She frowned. "Are you sure you can get Lady Hilary? I know they're holding her somewhere."

Scott's big grin nearly split his face. "My friends are already on their way upstairs. They're probably getting her now. Piece of cake!" He tapped C.J's shoulder. "Come on, kid. Let's go."

Elizabeth gulped and leaned against the window. Thank goodness the walls here were thin as the paper she was writing on. She heard Pavla talk about how badly she wanted to give up larceny for acting...and how being married to Lord Jeffrey and his title meant she could now pursue whatever career she wanted to. She never once mentioned having married Jeff because she really cared about him. _She's only after his power and status,_ Elizabeth thought angrily. _She doesn't love him! She's probably never loved anybody but herself._

Pavla had just started telling Mr. Zanish that she'd join his acting troupe when Elizabeth felt a hand on her shoulder. "I think we have enough to incriminate Pablo, don't you?"

"Lady Hilary!" Elizabeth shot to her feet. "You're all right!"

"I am now, thanks to my friends here." Scott and C.J flanked her on either side, followed by several figures in black. "I was locked in a room upstairs. I heard everything Pablum said."

"So did I." She held up the paper. "And I have it all down here."

Pavla's eyes widened as Hilary stepped into the room, followed by the others. Scott and C.J drew swords. "What is this? How..."

Scott put a hand on Hilary's shoulder. "It was a collaborative effort."

Elizabeth's grin was as nasty as she could manage. "Mr. Foley usually takes better notes than me, but...he was busy."

Pavla's face became even more aghast as "Mr. Zanish" took off his wig and false mustache and eyebrows, revealing the little music teacher. She jumped to her feet. "This is blackmail."

"Au contraire, petit German libertine." She held out the notes Elizabeth had taken. "The only thing I want is to know that, as you're rolling along the Monongahela and rolling over every ship from here to Boston, that you're worrying about when I might be sending these notes to MY Jeff...or better yet, when I'll show them to him after he gets back." She narrowed her eyes. "Now, get OUT of my town, before I have you arrested for kidnapping and letting those beasts of yours disturb the peace."

Captain DeVile could only stalk angrily out of the bar and down to her ship. The others watched her. "I don't think we've seen the last of her," Elizabeth fretted.

"She's gone now. That's all I care about." Hilary took the papers from Elizabeth. "I'll keep this, dear. It'll be good leverage for when Jeff comes back." She made a face. "I only wish they were heavier. I'd like to break them over his thick head."

Scott frowned. "There's something fishy about all of this, Your Ladyship. This doesn't sound like the Jeff I know." Mr. Foley nodded in agreement.

Elizabeth sighed. "We won't find out anything until he gets back."

 **The Basement of the Monongahela Inn, An Hour Later**

"I don't like this." Scott paced up and down the length of the hard rock floor. "Captain Pavla DeVile is one of the most notorious pirates on the East Coast. I doubt she married Jeff because she suddenly fell in love with him. Pavla deals in information. She keeps herself out of hot water with the authorities by trading knowledge about Patriot activities for illegal goods to sell on the black market."

Maple made a face. "I have heard that is not all she trades. She does not mind trading...favors...for knowledge, either."

C.J nodded. "If Pavla's after Jeff, it's because he knows something about the Patriots. But what?"

"If we could figure that out, we'd be going after her before she jumps town."

Maple finally grabbed Scott's arm. "Scotty, enough with the around and around like a top. You make me dizzy. Not to mention, someone may hear you."

"I know you're worried," C.J added. "I don't blame you. Pruitt's increased guard patrols on the roads and in Pittsburgh Village and upped the price on the Crimson Blade's head to fifteen thousand dollars. We're going to have to be a lot more careful. We were lucky no one was hurt or caught today."

"And we've really been short-handed with Jeff gone." Scott sighed. "Even if I'm about ready to help Hilary throttle him over this whole Pavla mess."

"I'm glad to hear that," said a familiar voice from the top of the stairs. "It'll be nice to have some help with throttling him when he gets back. He does squirm so." Lady Hilary Booth and Mackie Bloom stood together. Hilary was still in the clothes she'd worn that day; Mackie wore his nightshirt and cap.

Scott groaned. "This place is the worst-kept secret in Pittsburgh! How did you find us?"

"Jeff told me the night of the ball." Hilary gathered her skirts and lead Mackie into the dusty room. "At least, he told me most of it. Hearing about the Crimson Blade's exploits in the market today gave away the rest. I got Mackie out of bed and followed you here when we came home." She scowled at the dust. "Couldn't you have found somewhere a little cleaner to meet? I doubt anyone's dusted down here since prehistoric times."

Mackie chuckled. "Yeah, I figured it out, too. Maple, you're a nice girl, but you're not good at hiding anything. You, Jeff, and Scott have been disappearing at weird times for months. There had to be a good reason for it. I doubt you were just going out for ale at the Buttery Tavern."

Hilary pulled out a lacy handkerchief, dusted off a crate, and finally sat down. "Scott, in exchange for not telling the world your identities, we only ask one thing."

Scott looked impassive. "What, Your Ladyship?"

Mackie grinned. "We want in on this. You saw me fight today. I may not be a conniving con-artist or a peer of the realm, but I'm good with my fists, and I've been in this village a while. I know people. And I listen to guests who've had a little too much ale."

Hilary smoothed out a wrinkle on her overskirt. "I refuse to have anything to do with the actual stealing. I won't have that blot on the Booth family name." She tugged at her ruffled sleeves. "However, I too hear things...and I hear things from a far higher branch of society than Mackie or the rest of you. I wouldn't have any problems relating one or two bits of information that could be of use to you. And if things do get too hot," she added with a smirk, "I know how to defend myself. Besides, I never did thank the Crimson Blade's men for rescuing me tonight."

Scott nodded. "Ok, you're both in. We're going to need all the help we can get. Pruitt's been adding more guards to the roads. He's smart, all right. We'll just have to be smarter." His big, plump-cheeked grin spread across his face. "Very exciting!"


	12. Chapter 11

**The Governor's Mansion, the Next Morning**

Governor Rolleigh Pruitt was yelling at three of his best men in his office. "How could you have missed them? They were right there, in the middle of the square! They made off with nearly five hundred dollars' worth of jewelry and money from the crowds after that pirate raid."

"Sir," pointed out his head general, "they did stop that pirate raid. It would have gotten worse if it wasn't for the Crimson Blade and his people."

"Her people." The second guard smirked. "That body couldn't belong to anyone but a woman. The things I felt when she swung into the square...let's just say I couldn't repeat them around my wife."

The Governor raised an eyebrow. "I was lead to believe that the Crimson Blade was a man. I know I fought with a man the night of the ball."

The third guard shook his head. "The Crimson Blade was female, all right. The way her shirt clung to her made it pretty obvious. The voice was a Frenchwoman's."

Pruitt scowled. "The scoundrel I fought with at the ball had a heavy Irish accent. There are definitely two Crimson Blades." He pounded his fist on the table. "Triple the patrols on the roads and around Pittsburgh Village. Stop every traveler who even resembles the Crimson Blade, man or woman. Raise the price on his...her head to 15,000 dollars! I want this criminal's reign ended, once and for all! He's undermining my authority and the safety of this village!"

Priscilla Cosgrave stomped into the office, looking annoyed. "R.P, that...that woman is here to see you. She said it was important."

"Bring her in." He turned to the men. "You're dismissed...and if you don't capture that red-shirted rogue and his...her band of do-gooding cutthroats, you'll be dismissed for good!"

The guards stumbled out, marveling at Captain Pavla DeVile in another well-fitted, colorful suit and plumed hat on their way. For once, Captain DeVile was in no mood to acknowledge their admiration of her decolletage. She pushed past Cosgrave and up to Pruitt's desk. "I'm not doing any more work for you. That Lady Booth, whom you said would be no problem to deal with, lead me on a merry chase yesterday. She and those blasted friends of hers from that little inn. They made a fool of me!"

"You forget your position, Captain DeVile." Pruitt waved at a chair; she slowly sat down. "I need you and that ship of yours to keep me informed about General Washington and that so-called army he's forming. That's the only reason you're allowed to ply your trade. That, and certain society families are willing to pay a high price for the luxury goods you supply. If you turn on me, I could have you out of the water and before a firing squad in an instant."

"You forget as well, Governor, that I am a woman, and well thought of in certain circles. If I were to pass rumors that you've been conspiring with other local business owners to help keep the colonies under British rule, I suspect you'd find yourself spending a great deal of time in jail...or on the end of a short noose."

"It looks like we're at an impasse. You may still be useful to me." He pulled out a stack of papers from his desk. "A friend of mine who owns the Weeping Joker Inn her in Pittsburgh is interested in buying the Monongahela Inn. Lady Redmond may be persuaded to sell. She hasn't been quite herself since her husband died in a carriage accident last year. It would certainly eliminate some thorns in my side."

He scowled. "I wouldn't mind taking that Elizabeth Roberts for myself. She's a lovely and intelligent girl. She would be a great asset to my empire. Without her, those idiots at the Inn would be nothing. Trouble is, she ignores my advances."

Captain DeVile shook her head. "If I attempt to go to the Inn, the staff will toss me out the moment I come near. I'm afraid I'm too well-known to them." Her smile turned predatory. "There is, however, still the matter of my husband Jeffrey to deal with. Perhaps it's time I visited him and discussed our...mutual interests."

Pruitt handed her one of the pamphlets. "Have you read the work of Jonathan Arnold, Captain DeVile?"

"Yes, many times. I don't agree with all of his opinions, but I can appreciate his passionate writing style."

Pruitt snorted. "I want to find out who Jonathan Arnold is. It's come to my attention that he's found information that could be vital to keeping the colonies in line. Arnold is said to keep to himself. I'm sure with your...sources...it shouldn't be difficult to find out."

Pavla's smirk was very nasty. "Perhaps it's time I visited my husband and asked him a few questions about his friend Jonathan Arnold...and Victor Comstock."

 **A Room at the King's Inn, Boston, Massachusetts, Three Weeks Later**

Victor Comstock was putting the finishing touches on his latest pamphlet when he heard a knock at the door. "Hello?" he said in the thickest British accent he could manage. "Who is it?"

"It's Lord Jeffrey Singer! Johnathan, open up! That's a direct order!"

Victor did so. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Jeff, what's wrong? You're not supposed to contact me unless there's an emergency."

"There is an emergency." Jeff ducked into the room. "Victor, I just had an encounter with my wife."

"I thought Lady Hilary was back in Pittsburgh."

"Not Hilary." He looked quickly out the window. "Pavla. I hope I wasn't followed here."

"Pavla?"

"Captain Pavla DeVile." He pulled back in, his face full of fear. "We have to get out of here. Victor, she knows that you're Jonathan Arnold. I don't know how or why, but she must have tattled to the British officials here in Boston. There's guards on their way here right now to arrest you..."

Both men looked up as a fervent knock was heard on the door. "Open up! Johnathan Arnold, you're under arrest, by orders of the Governor of the Massachusetts Colony!"

"Jeff, get out of here!" Victor started pushing him towards the open window.

"But what about you?"

"I'll stall them as long as I can. You have to get back to Pittsburgh and tell Elizabeth what happened. "

"Elizabeth?" Jeff didn't have the time to ask why Elizabeth. He got out the window just in time. Even as he was landing with a curse on an azalea bush and hurrying down the alley, the door into the room burst open, blowing off its hinges.

"You know," Victor said in his heavy (and very fake) British accent, "you didn't need to do that, mate. I would have opened it. I was just finishing up some work."

"You can drop the voice now, Herr Comstock." A slender, exotic-looking woman in a bright suit slunk into the room, followed by a cluster of the Governor's guardsmen. "We know who you are." She sauntered up to him, looking him over. "You're not unattractive, for a double spy."

"What makes you think I'm a bloomin' spy?"

She got closer to him. "That," she hissed softly into his ear, "is for me to know," she ran her fingers down his cheeks, and then to his chest, "and you to find out."

He pushed her away. "I'm not interested, miss." He pulled his sword out from under his bed. One of the men lunged for him. Victor managed to disarm him and wound another, but they quickly overwhelmed him. Two of the guards yanked his arms behind his back.

Pavla took his sword. "You're very foolish, Herr Comstock." She once again pulled herself close to him. "I'll show you what happens to Patriot fools like you." She grabbed his head to give him a very rough kiss.

He only turned his head away. "Miss, I find your attentions to be most unseemly. Take your hands off of my private person."

She gave him a sound slap instead. "You have no more passion than a...a dead fish!" She turned on that shark-like smirk again. "If you are not interested in attentions, perhaps your friend Lord Singer will be."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "You stay away from Jeff. He has nothing to do with my work."

"We shall see." Her smile only grew wider as they lead the tall writer away.

 **Boar's Head Tavern, Boston, Later That Night**

Jeff was sipping rum at the bar when she walked in. He stood...but she pushed him back down. "I want to talk to you, husband."

"I'm not your husband. I know what you did to Victor. I saw you on your way to his room this morning."

"Oh, but you are my husband." She lead him to a more private table in the back of the room. "It's all signed, sealed, and notarized."

"I only did it to save Victor." He growled. "You went back on the deal! You told me if I helped you become an actress and give up piracy, you'd keep quiet about Johnathan Arnold.""Your can blame your precious Hilary Booth and all those troublesome people who work at that little inn." She grabbed his arm. "You know, I still have contacts in Pittsburgh, some quite high in the government. I could get in touch with a few of them, perhaps make sure your Hilary and her friends meet with some unfortunate...accident..."Jeff's voice rose considerably. "Don't you dare touch her!"

"I might. Or I might not." She caressed his arm. "I want you to use your power to get me on the stage. Tomorrow. I know some good theaters here in Boston I could talk to. Or," she squeezed his arm, "your beloved Hilary may not live to recite another Shakespearean sonnet."

"I'll consider it. Give me until tomorrow."

She let him go. "You have one hour." He watched her as she strode out of the bar. Several men watched her wiggling backside with leering eyes.

Jeff handed the bartender money. "Here. I think I have to leave town for a while." He hurried out as fast as he could. He wasn't going to wait an hour, or even another second. He had to warn Hilary and Elizabeth, before Pavla got her hands on them...or far worse. God only knew what they were going to do to Victor.


	13. Chapter 12

**Pittsburgh Village, Late January 1775**

Elizabeth stormed out of the Seldon Sentry Bank, Scott and Mackie close on her heels. "I can't believe Pruitt wants to sell the Inn! Probably to one of those larger places just outside of town."

Scott looked back at the door. "That Sentry's as bad as Pruitt, and just as much of a snob. There's no reasoning with him."

Mackie's fists were clenched. "I'd like to punch that guy in the nose. When they made him, they threw away the mold. And the mildew, and the dry rot! He's the third worst human being in the colonies!"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Who's the worst?"

Mr. Eldridge came over to them with a newspaper. He looked as agitated as he ever got. "Mistress Roberts, there's another article on why we should remain with England in the Pittsburgh Daily Gazette from that awful Jonathan Arnold! It makes an old man's blood boil! And even get very warm!"

"There's your answer, Liz." Mackie swatted at the paper in the old man's hand.

Elizabeth took the paper from Mr. Eldridge. Scott couldn't help but notice how frightened her expression was. "Mr. Eldridge, the writing style is different. Too different. This article was written by another Johnathan Arnold."

Mr. Eldridge shrugged. "I wonder what happened to the first Jonathan Arnold?"

Mackie snorted. "When you get discontinued by the British, you REALLY get discontinued, if you know what I mean."

"Hush, Mackie." Elizabeth said too quickly. "Maybe he just had...other assignments."

"Yeah," Scott added, "he was probably assigned to the front of the nearest firing squad."

"Neither of you know the first thing about this!" Elizabeth tucked the newspaper under her arm. "I'm going home. Governor Pruitt said he wanted to talk to me about the rents. He probably just wants to tell me how many more items he's cut from the budget. That man is such a miser."

Scott went to take her arm. "I'll walk you there, Liz."

Mr. Eldridge waved him away. "That's all right, Scott. I need to see that newspaper myself. I'm entered in a raffle. They're giving away a big cash prize. I might even get a nice slip of paper." He took Elizabeth's arm instead.

Scott watched Elizabeth sadly as they strolled off. "I really hurt her, Mackie. She's been like a block of ice to me ever since I was demoted to the kitchen." He hit his fist into his hand. "I'm going to make things right. You'll see. I'll prove to her and to Pittsburgh just how much I really care."

Mackie rolled his eyes. "You keep trying, and she keeps ignoring." He held up a bag. "Look, right now, why don't we deliver this to the fruit farmer with the pregnant wife? He said he'd meet us at the Inn. That's something."

 **Servants' Quarters Behind the Monongahela Inn, A Hour Later**

"Thanks, guys." Mackie handed Gus Kahana the bag of money. "This is a lifesaver. Cora's almost due. You don't know how hard it is for a small farmer like me to make a living with these taxes and the bank bearing down on us."

Scott exchanged grins with Mackie. "Don't thank us. Thank the Crimson Blade. He's the one who secured that money. Him and his people."

"If you ever see him, tell him this means the world to me." Scott and Mackie followed Gus to the door. "I have to deposit this in the Pittsburgh Central Bank in town. I'm pulling out of Seldon Sentry Bank. They've really been losing money over the past few weeks." He pulled out a paper. "Just look at this advertisement in the farmers' newspaper."

Scott raised his eyebrows at the advertisement. Mackie read over his arm. "These numbers scream that they're losing money. Why would they emphasize that?"

Mackie nodded. "Something's going on here."

"I wonder..." Scott turned to Gus. "Can I borrow this?"

Gus shrugged. "Sure. I can always get another copy in town." He headed for the door. "Speaking of, the wood from my orchards won't deliver themselves, and Cora is expecting me." He bowed, doing his best George Washington imitation. "Where are our Men of abilities? Why do they not come forth to save their Country?"

Mackie chuckled as Gus left. "I wish he wasn't so busy with his farm. He's the only guy in the area with more voices than me. You should hear his John Adams."

Scott was looking over the advertisements. "Mackie, tell Hilary I'm going to be late for the play."

Mackie grimaced. "Oh no. That would be risking life and limb. Some of us enjoy being able to walk upright and not have our ears ringing with creative insults for the next two hours."

But Mackie said this to the back of Scott's head. He was already sitting at the small table by the window, reading over the ads and writing numbers down on a paper with a tattered quill. Mackie just threw up his hands in annoyance and went downstairs to start rehearsal.

 **The Main Room, That Evening**

Lady Hilary Booth was livid. Scott Sherwood had never appeared. He wasn't in the kitchen, and he hadn't been at rehearsals. She found herself playing her musical romance about a woman whose husband couldn't remember their marriage to Mr. Foley, who kept talking through their love scenes. She finally pushed him off the stage.

Elizabeth groaned. She had a few choice words for Scott Sherwood right now, none of them repeatable in a respectable play. It was bad enough that Hilary was going to be angry all night. Her Ladyship was already been talking to Douglas Thompson about divorce, which was not an easy thing to obtain in the colonies. Elizabeth looked at her watch. The show would be ending soon. She really had to talk to Pruitt and find out what he wanted. He said it was a surprise. Considering his last big surprise was an audit that cost Scott his job, she wasn't looking forward to what he had up his sleeve this time.

Elizabeth made her way into the manager's office. _I wish I knew if Victor was all right._ Her mind had been on Victor all day, ever since she'd read that newspaper. _If only I could get in touch with him somehow, or just see him again!_

She looked up as footsteps came close to the door. "Governor Pruitt?" She went to meet him at the door. The last thing she expected was to see Lord Jeff Singer rush past her and close the door as quietly as he could. His brown curls were windblown and his fine yellow and blue suit in disarray. He looked as if he rushed there straight from Boston on horseback without stopping. "Your Lordship! What are you doing here?"

"I had to see Hilary."

"I don't think she wants to see you," Elizabeth snapped. "How could you abandon her and marry another woman? You broke her heart!"

He looked out the window. "She has no idea I'm here." He turned to her. "I need the script for the play. I saw the posters for it in town on my way here. If I do a scene with her, it may be a way to break the ice. She hasn't responded to any of my letters for the past two months. My explanation holds water."

"So will your lungs if she gets you near the river."

Eugenia hurried in. "Elizabeth, Governor Pruitt is on his way in. He wants to see you. And have you seen Scott? The play is almost over, and there's no one to do the last love scene with Hilary!"

Elizabeth indicated Jeff. "How about His Lordship?"

Eugenia nodded. "That'll do nicely..." Then her eyes widened when she stopped to think for a moment. She grabbed Jeff in a hug that nearly took his breath away. "Oh, Your Lordship, you're back!" He delighted grin became a worried frown. "Maybe you shouldn't be here. Her Ladyship is seriously considering doing real harm to you!"

Jeff shrugged. "She's been doing that since the day I met her."

Eugenia led Lord Jeff out to the main room, where their small plays were put on. Quite a few people let out startled gasps as the attractive young nobleman stepped onto the narrow stage. He looked at the script – he hadn't time to memorize it. "Patricia?"

Lady Hilary Booth turned around in utter shock. "Je...James?"

He moved towards her and took him tenderly into his arms, while still managing to read the script. "Hello, my darling. It's me. I'm back from the dead. I had to come. I love you."

"It's hard to believe it." She leaned over and whispered in his ear "You'll wish you were back with the dead when I get through with you!"

He just pulled her closer. "Darling, you must believe it. I love you. I've never loved any woman more."

She shook her head. "I...I love you too. We'll never mean more to each other than we do at this moment." He leaned over to kiss her, but she simply turned away. "Don't even contemplate kissing me, Jeffrey Singer," she hissed softly in his ear. "You lost that right the moment you wed that contemptible German trollop of a buccaneer."

"Hilary, I had to...and this isn't the place to talk about it." He moved from her embrace and took her hand as they walked off-stage to thunderous applause.

Elizabeth was looking wistfully out the window when Lady Hilary flew into the office with such savage intensity that the door nearly came off its hinges. "Elizabeth, who allowed Jeffrey into this inn?"

Elizabeth swirled around to her, startled. "Your ladyship, please don't do that!" She frowned. "Hilary, whether he's your husband or not, he still lives here and works here."

"Not if I have any say in it." Lady Hilary stood to her full, autocratic height. "If he's living here, I'm finding another home. I refuse to be under the same roof as him. I want to know which of us is staying or going by tomorrow. Please tell me first thing in the morning which of us is staying." She looked around the office, her eyes a little sad. "I like...I like living here." She finally went back out.

Jeff met her in the hallway. "Hilary, please listen to me!"

"I have to do no such thing." She picked up her skirts. "I am going to dinner at my good friend Earl Aldrych's house. You can jump in the river, for all I care. It might improve what's left of that suit." She finally flounced out of the Inn, Jeff hot on her heels.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. Now she had to choose between Jeff and Hilary. This was getting to be too much. She turned to the window, trying to figure out what to do. _I don't want to hurt either of them. Oh Victor, I wish you were here!_

"A pretty girl like you shouldn't be worrying so much. It'll put lines on your sweet face." She wished she didn't have to turn to the door. Governor Rolleigh Pruitt slithered in. She could almost see the tail of his silvery gray velvet coat trailing along behind him, like a snake ready to strike. "Hello, Miss Roberts." He nodded at the desk. "Why don't you take a seat? We'll discuss...many things."

She did so. "Sir, you can't cut much more of our budget and expect us to be able to tend to our customers. We can't work without props for our plays or food or linens for our guests. And what's this about selling the inn? You can't shut it down. Some of our guests live here, including me! We don't have many other places we can afford to go."

His face was entirely too happy for Elizabeth's liking. "Oh, I'm not interested in talking about the budget today. I have something else planned for us." He reached over and took Elizabeth's hand. It was all Elizabeth could do to not pull it away in disgust. She didn't like the sound of that "us."

"What do you have planned, sir? I have things I need to do today. There's a friend I need to...check up on."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He patted her hand. "I know how upset you've been over these past few months. We're both concerned for a certain party in Boston."

She looked up, amazed at his last words. "You...you know about Victor?"

His smile grew wider. "Who do you think his contact here was? I am the governor, after all."

She let out a breath of relief. "Oh sir, I'm so glad! You have no idea how anxious and concerned I've been these past few months since I last saw him. Where is he? Is he all right? He doesn't seem to be writing for the British anymore. I'm afraid that something...something bad...happened."

"Why don't you come into the lobby and see my surprise?" He chuckled. "I think it's one you'll like a great deal. It's for you and you alone, however. You'll have to clear out the rest of the staff. Send them to their rooms or tell them to go elsewhere for the night."

Elizabeth did what she could. She couldn't find Mackie or Scott, and Hilary and Jeff were still at Earl Aldrych's. The few guests were already in their rooms. She sent Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge to the Buttery Tavern and told C.J, Maple, Mr. Foley, and Eugenia that there were problems with the chimneys and they should get out immediately, before the smoke spread.

Maple put her hands on her hips the moment Elizabeth pushed them out the front door. "I do not like this. Something smells bad here. It is tres inhabituel of Elizabeth to put us out so, oui? I see no smoke!"

"Yeah," added C.J, "I don't like this, either. I saw Pruitt coming in a while ago. He looked way too happy."

Eugenia shivered. "I don't like that man. He gives me the willies." Mr. Foley added his own look of fright. He was about to speak, but Eugenia cut him off. "Don't worry, Mr. Foley! I'm sure Elizabeth knows how to handle him. She can handle anything."

"I do not agree." Maple gestured at Isabella Street. "Eugenia et Monsieur Foley, maybe you should meet Monsieur Eldridge et Madame Gertrude at le Buttery Tavern until we find out what is going on. We will send carriage for you when the toast is clear." She turned to C.J. "Why don't you go to O'Malley's and round up our...friends...to help?" She leaned over and whispered "Get the boys! I don't care how drunk they are at this time of night. See if you can pull Lester away from his latest conquest. We'll need all the help we can get."

C.J grinned and whispered back. "It's more than likely that Lester's latest conquest is trying to get away from him by now. I'll take Eugenia and Foley to the Buttery, then bring the others back here."

"And I will go to my quarters and get dressed. I think the Crimson Blade will be needed here."

As the four broke up, Maple thought she saw someone familiar walking into the Inn. She couldn't be certain, though. It was too dark to tell. He wore the uniform of a British military officer. _Where have I seen him before?_ She didn't have the time to wonder. She hurried around back to the servants' quarters.


	14. Chapter 13

**The Lobby, A Few Minutes Later**

Elizabeth couldn't believe her eyes. There he was, right in front of her, as tall and refined as ever in the bright uniform of a British officer. He took off his tall hat. "Hello, Elizabeth," said Victor Comstock quietly. "I'm back."

"Thank goodness you're home!" She ran right to his arms. "I've been so worried!"

"I've been traveling for...weeks, maybe months. It's strange." His smile seemed a bit weak. "I can't seem to remember. There was a woman..." He shook his head. "But let's not think about that. I'm here, now. And I'm with you."

"Yes, you are." She looked up as Rollie Pruitt stepped into the room. "And here's your contact now. I'm sure you both have a great deal to talk about..."

Victor looked confused. "That's not my contact. That's the governor of this colony."

Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach. "Victor, what's going on? He told me..." Horror appeared in her brown eyes. "No, I told him everything. I did the talking. You're...one of them. You're helping the British."

"And so is Victor, now." He scowled at her. "You reckless child, did you think I wouldn't figure it out? I have resources in places you couldn't dream of." He grabbed her by the arm. "You'll both be coming with me. You'll make a fine bride to help run my empire. You're just pretty enough to look attractive in all the jewels I'll shower you with...and just gullible enough to obey my commands."

"No! No!" Elizabeth struggled...at least until she saw Victor pull out a gun and aim it directly at Pruitt.

Pruitt's eyes widened. "I was told the hypnosis was complete! You're to help me get Miss Roberts out of Pittsburgh, not take out my hide!"

"Hypnosis?" This was just getting stranger and stranger. "Is that how you did this to him?"

"My confederate said he wouldn't obey otherwise. Stubborn, overly noble Patriot!" He pulled out a gun of his own on Elizabeth. "If you try anything outside of your conditioning, I'll make sure our Miss Roberts won't be writing any more of that vulgar romantic twaddle of hers."

"Everyone's a critic," Elizabeth grumbled. "Even people who are trying to marry you and kill you!"

 **Outside the Monongahela Inn, At That Same Moment**

Scott and Mackie hurried up the steps of the porch. Mackie was sniffing around. "I swear I smell smoke! I thought Mr. Foley was pulling my leg when he went on and on about the chimneys, but now I think he might have been right."

"Oh please. There's nothing but the usual smoke coming out of our chimneys. Anyone can see that."

Mackie nodded at the posters in Scott's arms. "Did you decipher them, Scotty?"

"Oh, you bet I did. It's big, big news! There have been codes going out in local ads, including ones hung in the lobby of our very own Inn."

"That's why the numbers are always different, right?"

"Right. It's a different code in every ad. Who would suspect it?" He waved his hand at the garden. "You go find Elizabeth. Check the garden and the upstairs halls. I'll look in the lobby."

"I don't know, Scott. I think I see smoke coming from..."

Scott gave him a gentle shove towards the garden. "Cut that out!" He shook his head as he pushed into the lobby. "Those codes were just so dull. You can tell a banker came up with them. 'Sell Spanish Cocoa to Carolina.' That's so..."

The last thing he was expecting was the pistol in his face...or to ever see the man who aimed it in that room. He knew the hawk-like visage well from the painting over the front desk. "Victor Comstock," he said in shock, "you're alive."

"Scott?" Elizabeth gasped. An angry, sweating Pruitt had another pistol trained on her. It was all Scott could do to not lunge at the Governor then and there.

"Elizabeth," he barely breathed, "I love you."

"This is all very sweet, but you're making my teeth itch." He took Elizabeth into his arms, still holding the gun on her. "Victor, keep that pistol on Sherwood. If you want to kill him, be my guest. He's a been a thorn in my side ever since he came to this hotel."

"I'll land a lot more than a thorn in your side if you don't let Liz go!" Scott growled.

Elizabeth was tired of being treated like a prize. She bit Pruitt's hand, pulling away from him. She wiped her lips. "Bleech! Your lordship, you taste terrible."

"You little..." Pruitt hissed. "No matter. I'll still be taking you and Victor with me."

Scott knew he had to do something. "Victor, listen to me! 'Sell Spanish Cocoa...'

Elizabeth looked at Victor with hope in her eyes. "Victor, do you remember the night you came back, how surprised I was? I almost died with shock!"

 _Yeah, I'm about to do the same._ Scott would have given anything to have been armed at that moment. He hadn't expected to walk into the lobby and find a gun fight! _If only I could get to the servants' quarters..._

That was when Victor shot...and Elizabeth collapsed. Scott lunged unthinkingly at Victor. The two struggled across the room. Pruitt tried to shoot at both of them, but they were moving too fast. They both looked up at the same time when there was another shot.

"Uh, Victor, did you do that?"

"I think I did." They both turned at the same time to Pruitt. He was clutching his arm, which now bled through his fat, cigar-like fingers, and was plaintively whining for his mummy. He finally passed out on the floor next to Elizabeth.

Scott ignored him and went to the girl on the floor. "Liz?" He started checking her, but she finally got to her knees.

"I'm all right." He helped her to her feet. "I had to do something. I fainted after I talked to Victor the first time he came home. I thought, if I did it again, Pruitt might fall for it."

"Good thinking, Liz." He turned towards Victor, who was rubbing his head, as if trying to clear it. "And good shooting, Victor. You at least got Pruitt down."

"Lousy shooting. I was aiming for the desk. But I did what I came to do."

Elizabeth sat Victor down on the nearest chair while Scott came out of the kitchen with rope. "I think we'd better get Pruitt tied up, before he tries something else." He took one pistol and handed the other to Elizabeth. "You keep an eye on this while I make sure he won't get away."

Elizabeth sighed. "I have to tell someone, Victor. This is too important." She went to Scott. "Do you remember this morning, when we realized that a different Johnathan Arnold wrote that article?"

Scott looked up from binding Pruitt's arms. "Yeah, why?"

Elizabeth helped him tie Pruitt's ankles. "Scott, Victor was Johnathan Arnold. He was a double spy. He wrote the original articles."

Scott's brown eyes nearly popped right out of his skull. "Pittsburgh's most beloved innkeeper turned traitor?"

"No!" She waved her hands. "He was working with the Patriots to get the goods on the enemy. I don't know how, but they must have gotten the goods on him instead and done something to his mind."

"Hypnosis." Scott made a face. "I heard about this when I was a cabin boy in Africa. He has to be brought around slowly. He'll probably be in and out for a few hours."

Elizabeth groaned. "We don't have a few hours! We have to call the police. They'll..." That was when they both noticed Victor was gone. "Oh no! We can't let him wander around like this!"

"You go check the Inn for him. Ask some of the other residents. They're probably wondering about the gunshots by now, anyway."

Mackie hurried in as Elizabeth headed for the stairs. "I heard shots. I thought it was one of our plays, but then I remembered how late it was..."

Pruitt was starting to come to. "Mr. Bloom, I've been shot!"

"Had to happen sooner or later! If not by Scott, than by someone else." He smirked. "I might have done it, if I'd had the right equipment on me. You are the lowest snake to ever slide through the halls of this Inn!"

Scott holstered the pistol. "He's a British spy, Mackie."

Mackie rolled his eyes at Pruitt. "That too? Is there something evil you haven't done yet?"

"My guards are on their way here," Pruitt hissed. "I ordered them to come. They were to help me bring Mistress Roberts and a British traitor to my mansion. They'll be here any minute."

"Bring 'em on!" Mackie held out his fists. "I could use a little exercise. It's been too quiet around here lately. Now, if you'll excuse me," he stood up importantly, "duty calls. I have to help my real boss take care of a few codes your buddy Seldon Sentry thought he could sneak past us."

Victor was wandering aimlessly in the hallway when he ran into Mackie. Mackie took one look at Victor and did several double takes. "Victor? Victor Comstock?"

"That would be yours truly." He shook out his head, as if trying to clear it. "At least, I'm relatively certain that's who I am. I'm an...innkeeper here, am I correct?"

"No!" squeaked Mackie, "you're dead!"

Victor looked himself over. "Well, perhaps I'm feeling light-headed and unusually nauseous at the present time, but I'm certain it'll pass..." That's when he just started wandering again, still looking dazed.

"But...but..." Mackie turned back to the hallway, this time running into Elizabeth and Scott. "I just saw Victor! I don't know how I just saw Victor..."

Elizabeth nodded. "Mackie, it's true. He's alive. Under some kind of hypnosis right now, but alive." She started down the hallway, with Scott right behind her. "The first time I saw him, as soon as he left, I fainted dead away."

"I like that." Mackie chose to do the same, collapsing face-first onto the hallway floor.

Elizabeth let out a groan as the sound of men breaking in could be heard from the lobby. "Scott, go see if you can get some of the guests to help you deal with Pruitt's men. I'll try to bring Mackie around."

"Right, Liz." Scott hurried off while Elizabeth went to the kitchen to get a cup of water. What Elizabeth didn't see was Scott making a right turn, not for the lobby, but for the back door in the kitchen. Two people in black and red outfits could already be seen making their way across the garden in the dark. He made sure they got across, then ducked back in.

 **Isabella Street, Two Minutes Later**

Lady Hilary Booth was doing her best to completely ignore Lord Jeffrey Singer. She'd gotten as far as the market square before realizing she'd forgotten her plum-colored velvet cape, not the brightest thing one could do in late January in cold Pittsburgh Village. She finally turned back, Jeffrey dogging her heels the entire way.

"Hilary, you have to listen to me!" He tried to get in front of her. "I don't love Pavla. I never loved Pavla. I love you!"

"That's not what she told me!" Hilary stomped past the Inn's carriage house. "Jeffrey, she kidnapped me! She forced me to listen to a letter you wrote her about how much you love her!"

"Blast it! She promised you wouldn't get hurt!"

"You believed the promise of a pirate who has probably thrown herself at every man with money on the Monongahela River?" She stopped at the porch. "Jeffrey, I left my cape in our...my...room. Would you be so kind as to retrieve it for me?"

That was when they saw the men in red uniforms at the doors. "I don't think either of us will be going inside for a while." He stepped up to one of the men. "Let me through! I'm Lord Jeffrey Singer, a peer of the realm, and I need to get into that building!"

One of the men almost literally shoved Jeff off the porch. "Yeah, and my uncle's King George. Amscray, pal."

Hilary grabbed her skirts and pounded up to the guard with a fury that made the wooden boards quake. "Touch that man again, and I'll see to it that you're arrested and locked in Fort Pitt until every single hair on that oversized head falls out and your hands are too gnarled to lay a finger on anyone who above your station! Or have I said too much?"

The other guard smirked, his eyes roaming up and down Hilary's fairly tight plum and forest green gown. "Yeah, sure we'll let ya in, sister. For a price." He put a hand on Hilary's shoulder. "I sure could do with a little fun tonight."

"I'll give you fun!" Hilary socked the man with such an enormous right hook, he flew through the door and into the lobby, knocking several chairs over in the process. Jeff wrestled with the other man, finally knocking him unconscious. They both hurried in at the same time.

They both managed to squeeze through the door at the same time, with Hilary's skirts mostly intact. The scene before them was chaos. Men in black garb and hoods fought with men in the uniforms of the governor's guards. Furniture in the lobby had been knocked here, there, and everywhere. Elizabeth tried to keep people from dueling on the furniture. Mackie just grinned and hit whomever got close to him.

Jeff turned to Hilary. "Pumpkin, go to Pittsburgh Village and get a hold of the police. This is getting out of hand."

Hilary rolled her eyes and took a discarded sword. "I'm just as good at this as you are. You go get the police." Jeff had learned better than to argue with Lady Hilary Booth. He made his way out of the lobby.

Victor Comstock wasn't sure what was going on. His mind was lost in a fog and...something else. Something he was struggling to remember. Something about cocoa...or was it something else? Was his name Victor? Or Johnathan Arnold? What did that woman want? A pirate...wanted to know what he found out about the Patriots...what he knew...what did he know?

He made his way into the garden. The guards and the men in black had been joined by several guests. He wasn't sure what he could do. He picked up a lost sword. Could he help? He didn't like the way the odds appeared. The guards had already captured several of the men who wore the black shirts and hoods and the red belts and were leading them away. The voice of one of them, a small man probably little more than a boy, seemed so familiar...

"Hey! What are you doing with my deux-in-command, monsieur guard? That is no way to treat a deux-in-command!"

Victor's eyes widened. The individual who swung down to the garden from the leafless plum tree near the fence was most certainly feminine. He could tell, even with her face covered by a black hood. Her voice was a French-accented contralto, and her red shirt clung to every curve of her bosom. Alas, she misjudged her timing and flew right into Victor, rather than the guard who accosted the youth. The momentum from her swing knocked both of them flat on the brittle grass of the garden, her on top.

He could have sworn he saw a very wide, toothy smile behind the hood. "Bonjour! It is nice to get drop on you, monsieur, oui?" She winked at him. "You are tres beau, and you are more cozy than you look!"

"Thank you, miss," he said, "but first of all, I believe that man is absconding with your...second in command?" He indicated the guard, who was dragging the protesting young man away. "Second, when you swung down, you should have done it five seconds sooner. And perhaps you should have done it a fraction to the right, so you would have landed on your intended target, rather than on my chest. Not," he added quickly, "that you aren't attractive there, but your sitting on me is of no help to either of us or the young man."

"Oooh lah lah," the woman breathed, "you are tres intelligent, Monsieur! I like that in a homme." She helped him to his feet. "How do you know all that? You are..." She squinted, and her eyes seemed to widen. "You are Victor Comstock! I know your face from painting in lobby!"

"Yes, I am, miss." He shook her hand. "And you are?"

Her knees would buckled then and there if she wasn't so confused. He had a really cute smile, for a dead guy. "Uh, I am the Crimson Blade, monsieur. But you...you are not among us!"

"I'll try to make more room for you in my schedule, Miss Crimson Blade." He indicated the back door. "We need to reveal what has occurred here to the remainder of the staff and guests, including the young man's abduction. I don't think this will be good for encouraging the guests to remain here longer than a few hours. Some may have already vacated the premises."

The Crimson Blade didn't follow Victor into the kitchen. She stared after him for a few minutes, her mouth open, but nothing coming out. She finally remembered her own predicament and that of her second-in-command's and headed for the servants' quarters.

 **The Lobby of the Monongahela Inn, Ten Minutes Later**

The fight was already wearing down, even as Lord Jeffrey returned with the police and military. Victor, Scott, and Elizabeth made their way in as the last of the guards were lead out. Elizabeth and Scott handed Pruitt over to the head of the squadron. Elizabeth nudged Pruitt. "Here's the cause of all the trouble, officer."

Victor nodded in agreement, sounding more like his old self. "This corpulent gentleman's guards caused a great deal of damage to this building, left our guests trembling in absolute fear, and may have abducted several men in black costumes who attempted to come to our aid."

"He's also a British spy." Scott nodded at the decoded messages. "Here's the proof."

The commander grinned. "We've been after this information for months. Our men had their suspicions about Seldon Sentry, but we couldn't prove anything until you good people came up with this." He turned to Victor. "Lieutenant Comstock, you'll be coming along to Fort Pitt tomorrow for questioning and rest. We should be able to question the rest of you here later."

The remaining Inn staff entered as the military was leaving. Maple came in from the kitchen. "What happened in here?" asked Eugenia in shock.

"Looks like the last battle of the French and Indian War," added Gertrude.

"Or they ran out of coffee and someone just drank the last cup," suggested Mr. Eldridge.

"This is not going to be amusement to clean up in the morning," Maple complained.

Mr. Foley was too busy gasping at Victor in shock to notice the mess. Gertrude gave him the biggest hug she possibly could. "Victor, you're alive! It's amazing! Who would believe miracles could happen in this year of 1775?"

Victor just looked confused again. "It's 1775? I thought..." He looked down as Mr. Foley poked and prodded his arms and face.

Mr. Eldridge stopped and shook his head. "Victor, where the hell have you been?"

Jeff finally wound his way to the front of the crowd. "Victor, we have to tell everyone. They're bound to find out sooner or later."

"Tell us what?" Hilary tossed her sword on a table and sat on the chair next to it.

"I knew all along that Victor was Jonathan Arnold." Jeff stepped onto the stage in the main room. "I was Victor's contact."

Victor joined him. "Jeff was the only civilian who knew everything about military secrets I'm not at liberty to discuss here."

"Is this where Pavla comes in?" Hilary asked.

"Yes." Jeff sat in the chair next to Hilary, but she moved to a couch across the room. "Hilary, there was nothing between us. I tried to tell you that earlier. I gave a letter to her that she promised her men would pass on to you. She must have doctored it to make it look like I was leaving you."

Maple made a face. "If she does not love you, why would she care?"

"It was in code. The one Hilary and I use to get out of parties quickly. The military would have figured it out in an instant, and mail's been slow going out of Boston anyway. The Ursula Gothel is one of the fastest ships afloat." He sighed. "I promised her I'd use my connections to get her work in the theater if she got that letter to you and kept Victor's secret."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "And then she came here, and we stopped her kidnapping scheme with Hilary. That must have been when she decided to go back on her word and tattle on Victor."

Maple nodded. "That hussy broke her promise to you two times over, Your Lordship. She make Hilary's letter look like it was love, and she tell British Victor is traitor."

Jeff went to Hilary. "Darling, I did this all for you, and for Victor, and for us. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone. All I want is for us to be married again."

Hilary pulled her hand away from his. "You're already married."

"Oh, yeah. But other than that, I still love you."

Hilary stood. "Jeffrey, I understand why you did it, but...why couldn't you have done something more sensible to Pavla, like throw her off the edge of her blasted ship?" She finally put up a hand. "You may live here. Not in the same room as me, of course. You could even speak to me, if you're feeling in the mood to be belittled, tormented, and bedeviled every waking moment."

He smiled wistfully at Hilary. "I always have, Mittens."

Maple sighed romantically and elbowed Scott, who made a face. Elizabeth smiled. Mackie beamed wolfishly. Eugenia giggled. Mr. Foley blushed. Victor just nodded. "I think we should all be getting some sleep. It's been an extraordinary day." He turned to Elizabeth. "I'll slumber in whatever room is unoccupied tonight."

She beamed prettily. "Your old room on the third floor is open, the one that overlooks the garden. You can stay there for now, until you get things settled with Fort Pitt."

 _Thank heavens Elizabeth lives on the second floor_ , Scott thought as he and Elizabeth followed Victor upstairs. _I don't want those two any closer than they need to be._ He continued out loud. "There's some things I need to talk to you about too, Victor."

"You can tell me first thing tomorrow morning." They finally stopped at the first door on the landing of the third floor. "And Elizabeth, when the remaining guests and staff awaken tomorrow, you can tell them that I'm home." He looked around. "And I'm elated to be home."

Elizabeth's smile could have lit up all of Pittsburgh. Scott, however, had never felt more discouraged. He was going to have to work even harder to win Elizabeth's love..and now, he had to face up to stealing Victor's job, too.


	15. Chapter 14

**The Manager's Office, The Next Morning**

Elizabeth had never been happier. Ok, so they were still in danger of having their rents raised and the Inn could still be purchased by someone else. Victor was home. With his help, they'd think of an idea together that would save the Inn and its residents.

The was one nagging thought in the back of her head. Scott. It was assumed that Jeff and Victor would resume their original duties once they returned from Boston. Scott was no longer needed in either the plays or the kitchen. And what would happen when Victor found out how Scott got his job in the first place? Strangely, Elizabeth found herself disappointed at the idea of him leaving. Maybe they could find something for him to do, attend to the chimneys or the garden when the winter ended.

She and Scott had been asked to meet Victor in what was once more his office. Scott met her at the door, dressed in brilliant blue. "Good morning, Liz. Sleep well?"

"Like a baby." She smiled. "Isn't it beautiful today? It's never felt so magical."

"Yeah." Scott took her hand. He noticed she didn't pull it away. "About what I said yesterday..."

Elizabeth blushed. "I think...well, you said that in the heat of the moment. You didn't really..."

 _But I did mean it. I meant it with all my heart._ All he could say was "I couldn't...I mean, I..."

The door to the office opened. Victor Comstock, wearing a subdued brown suit, watched them in amusement. "Good morning, Mr. Sherwood and Miss Roberts. I believe I'm ready to discuss the Inn with you."

Elizabeth, whose face now resembled the flames in the cooking fireplace in the kitchen, ducked into the office, followed by Scott. They both sat in chairs opposite Victor. He looked more like his old self, tall and thoughtful in his heavy dark chair. "Now, I've been going over the logs for the running of this Inn for the past year, and I have to admit, I'm very impressed. You've been coming up with some incredible ideas. Starting a small general store here to sell our own products and increase revenue! Running our very own in-house publication! Holding an outdoor play in conjunction with the local spring festival." He smiled proudly. "Elizabeth, I never thought of these things! These are truly ingenious notions."

She looked embarrassed. "I didn't think of them, either. They were Scott Sherwood's ideas."

Scott shook his head. "Oh, we worked on them together, Vic. Elizabeth did more with them than I ever could." He sighed. "But I really need to tell you how I got here in the first place. Neither Elizabeth nor anyone else at the Inn had anything to do with it."

Victor nodded. "You haven't told me what it is that you do here. You work as a...kitchen laborer?"

"I do now." He looked right into Victor's eyes. "Before that...I ran the Inn."

"You...ran the Inn?" Victor quirked an eyebrow. "Based on what qualifications?"

"Based on...my forging a letter and lying that I knew you well to get the job."

Elizabeth looked from Scott's worried face to Victor's unreadable one. "Miss Roberts," Victor said slowly, "could you leave us alone for a few minutes?"

"Um, yes." She stood up and hurried out...but the moment she left, she leaned her ear against the door.

"You're a very bright fellow, Sherwood," Victor was saying. Elizabeth could hear chairs scraping on the wood floor. "Using the sides of our own Inn to hang advertisements large enough for a crowd to see them. Brilliant thinking. I just wish I could remember meeting you in Boston. Now, where do you want me to..."

"Wherever you'd like, Victor."

Elizabeth heard the smack, the groan and the fall backwards. She jumped away from the door just in time to see Scott and Victor walk out, talking animatedly. Scott held a hand over his right eye. "Why don't we discuss ideas for running the Inn while we find some ice for that eye?" Victor was saying.

"I think a good steak will do the trick."

"That's a fallacy. It only works because it's been in the ice house. A friend of mine told me..."

Elizabeth just shook her head as the duo made their way to the kitchen. The last thing she expected was for them to be friendly, even after Scott revealed his deception. Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge joined her in the hallway. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, they just, uh, had something to discuss." She saw how excited the Inn's two oldest servants were. "What's going on? Mr. Eldridge, you look as if you've won a thousand dollars!"

He grinned. "Oh, I have! Actually, three thousand, but that's just the addition of a few extra zeroes, isn't it? Mathematics can be amazing."

"He won the town raffle!" Gertrude squeezed his arm. "He has money to burn!"

Mr. Eldridge went through his jacket. "Or, I had money to burn. The ticket was here a minute ago..."

Elizabeth, Mr. Eldridge, and Gertrude were still searching all over the lobby when Lady Hilary and Lord Jeffrey stormed into the room. "Hilary, why are you still ignoring me? I told you why I did it yesterday, in front of everybody!"

Hilary flounced towards the main desk. "You seem to forget that not only did you abandon me, a fair flower of one of the noblest houses of England, but your harlot of a nautical sea-tramp had me abducted in cold blood! I could have been killed!"

"She wouldn't have killed you! She was holding you for information." He held out a packet of letters that were sitting on the front desk. "Hilary, just read these. I wrote them weeks ago, explaining everything."

Elizabeth went up to the bickering pair. "Have you seen Mr. Eldridge's raffle ticket?" She turned to Mr. Eldridge. "What did it look like?"

He opened his fingers. "Well, it was on blue paper, just about the size of a long rectangle...though how you can wreck a tangle is beyond me..."

Hilary held up a packet of blue papers. "These are all I care about."

"Hilary, if you'd just read them..."

"No! I'm through with listening to you!" She started towards the fireplace.

Gertrude shook Mr. Eldridge's arm. "Tom, didn't you say the ticket looked sort of like those letters?"

Mr. Eldridge nodded. "Yes, exactly like them."

Elizabeth groaned and reached for Hilary. "Oh no! Your Ladyship..."

Hilary threw the letters into the fire before anyone could stop her. "There's what I think of your letters and your explanation!" She stormed off, with Jeff on her heels.

Elizabeth, Mr. Eldridge, and Gertrude watched the papers burn dispiritedly. "Oh, well," signed the old man. "Easy come, easy go."

 **The Lobby, That Evening**

"Are you sure you want to buy this place, Uncle Thomas? It's just a little inn. I could find you something much better."

Mr. Eldridge smiled at his great-nephew. "Oh, I'm sure, Harold." He looked around. "This place is like a home to me. In fact, it is my home."

"I'm glad you found that ticket in your room. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to make the bank before it closed."

He patted the young man's hand. "Understood completely."


	16. Chapter 15

**The Green Parlor Room, A Few Hours Later**

Maple and Scott sat in the darkness, eating dinner and drinking ale. Well, Scott was drinking ale. In fact, Scott now had three bottles of ale next to him and was working on a fourth. Maple was still drinking the same bottle she'd had for an hour. Maple finally put down the slice of smoked ham.

"Scott, what is the problem? I have never seen you this upset before!"

He stared morosely at his ale. "Maple, the rest of our band is in jail, just because they helped me. C.J is in jail. He's too smart of a kid for that." He took another swig. "Victor Comstock has returned from the dead, a man whom everyone admires and reveres, including the woman I love. And hell, I like the guy! We actually had a pretty good chat about ideas to get the Inn going this morning." He rubbed his pulsing bruise. "After we got the ice for my eye."

Maple turned almost as red as her hair. "Scott, I...landed on Victor yesterday."

Scott raised the one eyebrow that didn't throb. "You landed on him?"

"I wanted to rescue C.J, but I guess I didn't aim right. I ended up on Victor." Her huge smile got even bigger. "It felt...it felt bon. He is tres beau, no?"

"I don't think he's that good-looking," Scott grumbled.

Now Maple was the one staring into her ale. "Scott, he does not know me. I told him I was Crimson Blade. I was still in costume! What could I say? I do not think his mind was entirely his own then." She sighed. "When I brought him his ham and beans for lunch, he spoke to me as if he barely recognized me."

Scott looked blearily up at Maple. "How about we make a deal? You keep Victor Comstock occupied when he's here, and I'll keep working on Liz. Sooner or later, she's gotta thaw out, and he's gotta notice you."

Victor chose that minute to poke his head in. "I'm closing the manager's office for the night, Sherwood. You can lock the doors here when you're finished."

"Sure thing, Vic."

"Actually, I prefer Victor." He nodded at the bottles. "And don't forget to sell those to the glass collectors. We could use the extra money for food and supplies."

Maple gathered her dishes. "I'll just take these to the kitchen."

Victor smiled and offered Maple his arm. "Would you appreciate an escort to the kitchen and servants' quarters, Miss Martienne? It is after nightfall."

"That's very gentile of you, Monsieur Comstock." She gathered the dishes in one arm and Victor's offered arm in the other. She grinned at Scott over her shoulder. "Do not wait up for me."

Scott had absolutely no desire to lock up anytime soon. He just felt like brooding. "Everyone can get love, except for me. Even Victor Comstock." He threw the empty bottle in the fireplace, making the flames spit and roar. "Damn it! Damn him, too! Him and Pruitt and...all of it."

"You're so articulate at this hour of the night." Lady Hilary Booth managed to get her fashionably wide skirts into the room. They took up almost the entire chair she settled down in. "How much ale did you have to get yourself this drunk?"

"Go to hell, Hildy. I'm not in the mood for your mouth right now. And I don't care if you're a lady."

She ignored his insults. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough." He glared at Hilary. "What do you care? You have Jeff."

"No, I don't have Jeff. As you may recall, he married another woman."

"Hilary," Scott spat, "he explained why he did it. I know you were hurt, but lives were at stake!"

"Don't you start standing up for him!"

"I don't see you doing it."

Hilary leaned back as well as she could in the chair. "Jeff shattered me deeply, so I'm doing the same to him. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, after all."

"In this case, I don't think it's good for anybody." He reached for another ale, despite the fact that he was already swaying a bit. "Hildy, Jeff is devoted to you. If I could get Elizabeth to look at me, even once, the way Jeff looks at you..."

"You're still in love with her?"

"I've been in love with her since the first time I saw her. She's everything I ever wanted in a woman. I've had other women, dozens, but none of them were like her."

"I've had other men, too. Maybe not dozens. More like...hundreds." She sighed. "But none of them were like Jeff. I just wish he'd learn to look before he leaps into a marriage contract he can't get out of."

"And Elizabeth is in love with a man who's more in love with his ideals."

Hilary looked right at Scott. "But you love Elizabeth. Not just her mind. You love her."

Scott scowled and pulled out his oft-seen pocket watch. "Oh, would you look at the...hey!"

Hilary was easily able to snatch the watch from Scott's ale-weakened grasp. "Where did you get this? It's a good quality item. Very finely crafted. It's not a cheap trinket you purchased from one of the market sellers."

He reached for the watch, but she held it away from him. "Gimme that, Hildy! It's mine!"

"Stop behaving like a five-year old." She dangled the watch chain from her fingers. "I'll give it back to you if you tell me how you got the bloody thing. Did you steal it from some noble family?" She made a face. "And for heaven's sake, don't call me Hildy! My name is Hilary!" She smirked. "Or in your case, Your Ladyship."

"All right, I'll tell you." He gestured at the watch. "It did belong to a wealthy family, but I didn't steal it. It was given to me by a good friend, the family's only son, before he...before he died."

Hilary frowned. "Who were they? What happened to them?"

"They're all dead now." He opened another bottle of ale. "Died in a fire in their home in Nantucket in the Massachusetts Colony years ago."

Hilary took the bottle. "Scott, I'm never going to get the full story if you're too inebriated to tell it."

"All right already!" He leaned back. "Michael O'Rourke was originally a butcher in Ireland. He had a silver tongue and a gift for twisting the truth, which is why they were always in and out of money and scrapes with the law. He and his wife Fiona had to leave Ireland after he made a few too many bad investments that left them heavily in debt. They settled in Nantucket with his older sister and young son, hoping to leave the blarney behind and start fresh. Did pretty well for themselves, too. They had a darn good fishing and whaling business going."

He looked into the fire. "The son was a good friend of mine. We left home at fourteen. We were bored and wanted to see the world. We lied about our ages and joined a pirate vessel as cabin boys." He shook his head. "We eventually worked our way up to becoming captain and first mate by the time we were twenty, raiding towns and taking anything we could get our hands on."

Scott's face darkened. "We sometimes ran jobs for a certain English lord who was then beginning to become involved in politics. He was too good to dirty his nose with under-handed dealings, at least where people could see him. We were running arms to the colonies, including some weapons that are banned here. They were supposed to go to the British army." His lips tightened into a small smirk. "I thought some rebels who were fighting a landowner could use them more. Pr...my boss didn't like that."

"What happened to yo...to your friend?"

"We sold the ship and fled back to Nantucket. Unfortunately, our boss and his men followed us there." Scott nodded at the watch. "He'd already taken Michael's land and business to pay for his debt and for taxes. The silver watch, which Michael bought in Ireland during one of his runs of luck, was one of the few heirlooms he was able to keep safe from the English." His voice became strained. "They killed Michael and Fiona in front of us when we tried to buy off the rest of their service. He burned the house with them and their son in it. I escaped with his aunt and the watch."

Hilary handed Scott the watch. "I heard of the O'Rourkes when I lived in England. They were basically con-artists who got very lucky. I always wondered what happened to them."

Scott gently put the watch back in his jacket pocket, then turned to Hilary. "How would you like a chance to get back at Jeff?"

Hilary raised an eyebrow. "You have my attention."

"I have a little scheme I'm hoping to pull." He smirked. "If you don't mind being married again."

"As long as it's not to Jeff. At least, not for a while."

Scott winked at her, or tried to. He ended up wincing. "I think this will help both of us."


	17. Chapter 16

**The Manager's Office, Early April 1775**

Elizabeth Roberts was frustrated. She thought everything would be perfectly fine and back to normal once Victor took his job as manager back. That didn't prove to be the case. Victor spent more time at Fort Pitt, writing pamphlets for the Patriot cause, than he did behind his desk at the Inn. While Elizabeth admired his ideals and his vigorous writing, she couldn't help but wish that for just one moment, he'd stay home and spend a little time with her.

It didn't help that they were short-handed again. Mackie Bloom had gotten a job with a traveling acting troop putting on _Hamlet_. He'd left over a month ago. Scott had eagerly taken over his duties as valet, gardener, and actor, but he'd been vanishing again. Hilary and Jeff spent most of their time bickering over his marriage and paying attention to little else.

She was hoping the play she wanted to put on would make her feel better. She dropped the huge stack of papers on Victor's desk. Victor paged through the Bible-sized volume. "It looks as if several forests gave their lives for this."

"This is what I was working on when you, uh, died. It's my blending of all of Shakespeare's Italian-set stories. I call it 'When In Rome.' "

Scott Sherwood burst into the office at that moment, clutching a poster. "I can't pin up this announcement in the lobby!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I know. I've seen you deal with the pins. With Mackie gone, though, that's now your job."

"No, Liz, it promotes the competition. It's about the two-day readings of Shakespeare one of the actors at the Weeping Joker Theater, next to the Weeping Joker Inn, did."

"Did you say 'two-day'?" Victor went to the duo standing behind his desk. "I think I've found a way to please both of you."

 **The Green Parlor Room, Later That Morning**

"Me?" Hilary beamed. "You want me to appear in an epic romance?"

"We wouldn't dream of having anyone else." Victor grinned at her. "You are our most praised and admired actress. The populace can't get enough of you."

Scott handed her a cup of hot cocoa. "And you could give the show that all-important element - class. You make anything look like a thousand bucks, Your Ladyship."

"Thank you, Scott." She frowned. "I like cinnamon on top of my cocoa. You do remember that." She sat back in her chair and turned to Victor. "All of Pittsburgh here to see me, in a genuine tragic romance filled with sword fights and drama."

Victor nodded. "The rest of the staff has given the idea a resounding 'yes.' The real question, however, is what the most beloved heiress in Pittsburgh society thinks."

Hilary nodded. "Yes, I love the idea! So many roles to play...so many men in the audience..." She turned back to Scott. "When does the show begin?"

Scott sprinkled the cinnamon on her cocoa. "Tuesday at 8 AM."

Hilary sipped her cocoa. "Much better. And...when does it end?"

"Thursday at 12 PM."

Hilary nearly choked on her cocoa. "What? How..."

"I've already contacted the local newspapers," Victor explained. "They're sending someone to document the event. The news may reach as far as Philadelphia, or even New York or Boston."

Her eyes became dreamy again. "Now that's something I like to hear. I haven't been in a newspaper since Jeffrey and I left England."

"Elizabeth, Eugenia, Mr. Foley, and I are about to put up the posters now." Scott patted the sheath of papers on the table. "We'll hang them in the market place and at the town hall, anywhere we can attract an audience."

"And I'll hang them at Fort Pitt when I go there later today." Victor smiled. "This will bring the Inn plenty of positive publicity. Imagine, a group of humble actors and, er, nobles, performing something that has never, ever been attempted in our time. It could put us in the record books, Your Ladyship."

"The record books..." Hilary clapped gleefully. "I'll do it! It sounds like a breathtaking idea. After all, I've always said I should be more well-known. Perhaps I'll even get a letter from the great producers in Philadelphia and New York soon."

Scott chuckled. "Maybe you will, Your Ladyship."

 **The Riverfront, Pittsburgh Village, That Afternoon**

Scott's legs were sore. He, Elizabeth, Mr. Foley, and Eugenia had spent most of the afternoon hanging posters anywhere they felt an audience would see them. Posters for their play and the Inn now resided on trees, in businesses, on the sides of buildings, and on the community board outside of the town hall. They put advertisements in both of Pittsburgh's newspapers.

Eugenia and Mr. Foley had walked on ahead. Eugenia was chattering in her amiable way. She never let Foley get a word in edgewise, but he didn't seem to mind. He listened dreamily to every word.

Elizabeth smiled at their backs. "They're awfully sweet together, aren't they?"

"Yeah." Scott grinned. "Foley told me he's really grown very fond of Eugenia. He keeps missing notes when they give lessons because he can't concentrate with her around."

Elizabeth shivered. "Cold, Liz? It is getting kind of late." He took off his red woolen cloak without thinking and draped it around her. "Here. This should help."

"Thank you, Scott, but it's not necessary." She tried to hand it back, but Scott just pulled it further over her shoulders.

"I'm wearing a coat. You really should have brought your own cloak."

"It was so warm earlier in the day, I didn't think I'd need it." Elizabeth yawned. "Maybe we should be getting back. I need to revise the script for 'When In Rome,' and we all need to rehearse."

He held up a poster. "I have one left to do, Liz. Why don't you, Foley, and Eugenia run along? I'll catch up with you later."

"Be careful, Scott. I've heard the Crimson Blade's been seen again, stealing from British nobles on the highway and here in Pittsburgh. I don't want you to be robbed, or..." she looked down, "worse."

Scott gave her one of his famous big grins. "Don't worry, Liz. I could handle the Crimson Blade if I ran into him. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

"All right." Elizabeth smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow for our first rehearsal."

"I'll be there with bells on!" He watched as she ran to catch up with Eugenia and Foley, then turned in the opposite direction. He did have one last poster to hang, but that wasn't entirely the reason he wanted to stay by the river. He had his suspicions about James Crawley, the owner of the Weeping Joker Inn and Theater. He'd dealt with Crawley in the past. A few months ago, Crawley wanted to combine the two Inns and share their resources and their staffs, but Scott and Lady Redmond turned down his offer. He wasn't going to take their breaking his inn's record lying down.

He noticed a poster advertising the Weeping Joker's feat on a maple tree outside the building. He smirked, took the poster down, and hung theirs in its place. "Much better." He tossed the original poster behind a bush, then quietly made his way into the small brick building. He ducked into an alcove just off the lobby. As he took off his coat, a flash of red could be seen glinting in the late afternoon sun...

 **The Manager's Office of the Weeping Joker Inn, A Few Minutes Later**

James Crawley, a tall, balding man with a rather nasal voice, leaned against his desk, looking intrigued. "And in return for helping get the Governor out of jail, you'll find out who owns the Monongahela Inn. I tried to buy it a month ago, but someone got there before I did. No one knows who did it. The purchase was made anonymously by a second party."

He made a face and indicated a poster for 'When In Rome.' "I don't want this play to go on. The Monongahela's become entirely too popular for my liking. Reservations at the Weeping Joker have been down for months. They've all been going to the Monongahela. 'They have everything going on,' people say. 'Their staff is pleasant and the plays are creative and fun,' they say. And what do they say about here? We've been losing revenue, all because of them. When I buy the Inn, I'll make sure all of those great ideas go here."

"I think we can work together," said a stiff, gravely voice. "The Governor isn't any fonder of these people than you or me. One of my people and I will be at the show." The chair he sat in scraped across the wooden floor. "We have our own ways of dealing with them."

Crawley's voice sounded annoyed. "And what about Menlow? I thought he was supposed to come around the Inn for the show. I don't know why the boss hired that little creep."

"I don't, either. Something about him and his woman looking for The Crimson Blade."

Crawley's voice let out a surprised squeak. "The notorious highwayman? What would he be doing hanging around a tiny hotel in Pittsburgh Village?"

"She." The voice coughed. "Rumor has it that there's two Crimson Blades, one male, one female. Apparently, Menlow's been seeking both Crimson Blades for years. The Governor entirely obsessed with having him and his new lady friend track him – or her – down. They've been questioning some of their men, but they won't talk."

Crawley's chair scraped. He took the man's hand. "I don't care about the Crimson Blade. That's Menlow's territory. The Governor can chase after anyone he likes, as long as he keeps bankrolling the Weeping Joker Inn. Besides, the Crimson Blade would never come here, with the guards' protection."

"I hope you're right." He stood, taking a poster off the desk. "I have a busy day of taking posters down tomorrow. We can't let this play get publicity."

The man with the gray hair and bushy mustache who walked out the door didn't see the shadowy figure hiding at the end of the hall. Nor did Crawley. He was too busy reading over the poster for the Monongahela Inn's extravaganza. He didn't even look up when the door opened again. "Just leave the tea on the desk, Mildred."

"I'm not Mildred." Crawley looked up to see a large, imposing figure in the darkness. He wore a bright red shirt and dark breeches. His face was covered by a black hood, except for his firmly pressed lips and his softly glittering dark eyes.

Crawley's mouth dropped open. "I know you! I know you from the reward posters! You're the Crimson Blade! But...but..."

He walked slowly around the desk, his sword aimed at Crawley's neck. "What do you know about Cribby Menlow? Who hired him?"

Crawley gulped. "He was hired by the Governor to track down the Crimson Blade. The Governor doesn't like how he's been interfering with his businesses. I think he's delivering marriage papers to two of the Inn's residents, too. That's all I know."

The Crimson Blade slashed his cravat, cutting it short. He then popped every button off his shirt and vest. "Stay away from the Monongahela Inn and its staff, and tell Cribby Menlow to do likewise, or you'll lose a lot more than a few buttons."

Crawley reached for a cord, but the Crimson Blade was out the door before he could even ring the bell. It was a few minutes before two servants in footmen's livery met him at the door. "What is it, sir?"

"The Crimson Blade was here! He threatened me and ruined my good cravat! Find him! I want him in jail!" The men darted off. Crawley plopped back in his chair. _The Governor isn't gonna like this!_

 **The Basement of the Monongahela Inn, That Night**

Hilary groaned. "Scott, you shouldn't have done that. You're lucky you weren't arrested!"

Scott shrugged. "I rattled Crawley and found out that he's got plans for the play."

Jeff nodded. "I just wish you heard exactly what they had in mind. It could be anything!"

Scott sat on a crate. "We'll just have to keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they might be trying to hurt us." He leaned against the wall. "What a time for Maple to get a cold! We need her help more than ever, especially with Mackie out of town."

Jeff joined Scott on the crate. "You have us. We'll do what we can. We want to see this play succeed, too. And we don't want you or Maple to get hurt."

Hilary grinned and sat on the other side of the crate, away from Jeff. "And of course, we want the free publicity. This could put us and the Inn on the map!"

Scott nodded. "I'm gonna need all the support I can get. It's up to us to make sure the show goes on!" His grin spread across his face. "Very exciting!"

 **The Manager's Office, 2 AM, That Night**

The Inn was silent at this time of night. Elizabeth enjoyed the quiet. She was working on revisions for 'When In Rome.' It was just about done. She was looking forward to being able to curl up into bed and relax while the rest of the staff performed the show. Eugenia and Mr. Foley would play the music. It would be the biggest thing the Inn had ever attempted...but she needed rest.

She sighed. Victor had gone to Fort Pitt. Again. The colonies seemed to be closer and closer to being at war with England. It was unthinkable, but that was what they heard from their guests and and the newspapers. Victor's pamphlets and newspaper articles were growing more and more heated. She agreed with him and understood the need to defend their rights to govern themselves, but...what about her? He kept canceling every plan they made together. "This isn't how it's supposed to be!" she said out loud. Victor was supposed to be the one by her side, not...not him. Not Scott. Scott was a scoundrel and a liar who didn't care about anyone.

 _But he saved your life, and you saved his. He's gone out of his way to be helpful and kind. He just...he lied his way into a job that wasn't his! Who knows what else he's lied about?_ She tried to concentrate on her work, but her thoughts kept intruding. _And what about the Crimson Blade? He certainly seemed interested in you after the ball, and he did save you from Pruitt's wandering hands. What's the story with him...and how did he turn into a she? The woman Crimson Blade looks nothing like the male one._

She never heard the footsteps in the hall. She pillowed her head on her arms, half-asleep. She was so tired, she barely looked up when a figure came into the room. "Victor? Lady Hilary? Scott?"

"Hello, lass." She shivered as the dark figure stepped into the room. It was the Crimson Blade, just as he appeared the night of the ball. The red shirt stood out, deep and hot in the moonlight. He wore the same dark breeches and high boots and gloves. The concealing hood couldn't hide the longing and sorrow in his brown eyes.

Elizabeth stood, surprised. "What are you doing here? Every officer within a hundred miles of Pittsburgh Village is looking for you! You could get arrested, or killed, or..."

"I'll be all right, lass. I can take care of myself." He slowly put his arms around her. "It's you I'm worryin' about. You and everyone here. I was at the Weepin' Joker Inn a few days ago. I overheard the owner Crawley plottin' to take control of the Monongahela Inn and sabotage 'When In Rome.'"

Elizabeth was too tired to protest his forward behavior. "Why would he want to do that?"

"He wants the Inn for himself. He'd buy up every idea that the Inn generates, until there's nothin' left for all of you but to be servants for him." His voice remained a soft, low Irish tenor, but she could hear the rising anger in it. "And it sounds like he's working for the Governor. Pruitt paid for his business. Both he and his crony are in Pruitt's employ."

"But Pruitt's in jail!"

The Crimson Blade let out a soft growl. "Not for long. He's a rich man, lass, not to mention the head of this colony. He likely has friends in high places who'll arrange for his bail."

She buried her face into his coarse red shirt. He wrapped his arms around her. She knew the scent of him – sweat, ink, the tang of the riverfront, the harsh soap used to scrub pots and pans in the kitchen. "It's strange. I feel like I've known you for a long, long time...but I've barely seen you. Where have you been?"

"Oh, I had to go away for a while. Let the price on my head die down, so to speak. I had a...friend...who helped me out."

Elizabeth snorted. "And I'm sure she's a very close friend of yours."

He chuckled. "Are ye jealous, lass?"

"Me?" Elizabeth looked up at him. "All I want is for you to to trust me, the way you trust your friend."

He stroked her hair, letting let her burrow into him. "I have to protect ye, lass. I canna be losin' anyone else I care about. There's too many people who know my identity as it is."

"Please," she whispered, her eyes already fluttering. "Just...trust me...I can keep a secret..."

"I know ye can, lass." He caught her as she fell unconscious in his arms. "I didn't know I was such dull company, I could put a girl to sleep!"

He easily carried her upstairs to her room. No one saw the man in black and red tenderly lay Elizabeth on her bed and pull the covers over her. Elizabeth barely felt the kiss he gently placed on her lips. "Me poor, tired lass," he whispered when he finished. "I'll let ye sleep. You've got a busy few days ahead of ye." He closed the door and made his way towards the servant's quarters.


	18. Chapter 17

**The Main Room, 8 AM, Three Days Later**

Elizabeth and the staff were wide-awake as soon as the rooster in the hen house in the garden crowed. She felt terribly tired. She still wasn't sure how the Crimson Blade got her in her room a few nights before...or was that even him who appeared to her in the office? Maybe it was all a dream. It seemed so real, though. His arms felt so warm and safe...

She yawned, trying to clear her head. She couldn't think of that right now. The audience would be arriving soon, along with the reporter from the Pittsburgh Daily Gazette who was to record their feat. She tried her best to be alert, but she'd been up for days trying to get everything ready for the show

Scott helped her greet the reporter at the door. The man was big and stuffy-looking, in a stiff dark suit with little embellishment and a bushy gray mustache. The woman with him wore a simple white and red gown. She was corpulent and sour-looking, with her course dark hair pulled back into a heavy bun and beady jet eyes.

"My name is Clifton Abernathy," the man stated. "I'm here from the Pittsburgh Daily Gazette to make sure your play continues in the same manner the one at the Weeping Joker Theater did. Miss Brumpton is my assistant. There will be intermissions every two hours of fifteen minutes each. I'll monitor the show from the audience to make certain all the staff is awake. Mistress Brumpton will be in the parlor room, awakening your performers at the appropriate times."

Elizabeth shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir. On behalf of the staff and residents and myself, welcome to our Inn. I hope you'll enjoy our show." Scott was frowning at Abernathy, as if he were trying to remember something that eluded him.

Miss Brumpton narrowed her tiny eyes. "I hope you do know that if anyone dozes beyond their allotted 15 minutes of sleep, the Weeping Joker Theater will keep their record."

"Oh, don't worry," Elizabeth giggled. "I'm sure they'll all be dreaming of a lot more than 15 minutes of sleep by the end of this." Abernathy and Brumpton gave her withering looks. "I'm sorry. I've been up for nearly two days, trying to get this all together. I'm going to go to sleep as soon as the play starts."

Scott put on one of his grins and took Elizabeth's arm. "Would you excuse us for a few moments? We need to talk about the cast list for this."

Elizabeth didn't like the look in his eyes. "Scott, please tell me that Maple's cold is better! She promised she'd take the other half of the women's roles with Hilary!"

"No can do, Liz. Maple's better, but the apothecary says she's not quite ready for prime show time. You'll have to take her roles."

"I can't do that! I'm nearly asleep as it is! The only time I've seen my room in two days is to write and change clothes!"

"You'll have a great jump on the rest of us!" He ushered her to the dressing rooms to get into costume quickly for the first act.

 **The Downstairs Hallway, 11 AM**

Hilary and Jeff were sitting together on a couch, Jeff rubbing Hilary's shoulders. She didn't care if she was angry with him or not. She was already beginning to feel a little sleepy. "Jeff, have you seen anyone who might want to sabotage the play?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, but we don't have as big of an audience as I'd hoped. I thought we'd at least get the lunchtime crowd. There's too many empty seats out there for all the advertising we did."

"I just hope Lester's still outside with those two posters he had hanging on himself. What did Scott call them?"

Jeff pushed harder at her shoulders.. "I think he called them 'sandwich boards.' Lester's a messenger. If anyone knows how to deliver information, it's him."

Hilary leaned against his arms. "Jeff, I'm just going to close your eyes...my eyes..."

"What are you doing?" Abernathy's grouchy bark immediately jolted Hilary back into wakefulness. "You know there's no sleeping allowed on the job."

"Oh, no." Hilary patted Jeff's arm. "We were just discussing all of my Jeffrey's faults. We'd gotten up to number 43."

"As long as you weren't sleeping." He stomped to the main room. Hilary hissed at his back.

"Sorry he saw you dozing, darling." He looked down at her thoughtfully. "I wonder what's up with him, anyway? Did someone catch him on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere near a bed with him on it." She sighed. "I'm all right, Jeffrey. I've dealt with worse grouches at society tea parties. It's Elizabeth I'm worried about. She's already lacking sleep. She may not last very long."

 **The Green Parlor Room, 6PM**

Elizabeth wasn't lasting long. Her yawns were getting bigger and bigger by the minute, and her eyes drooped further and further. Not to mention, no one had seen anyone who was even remotely looked like they could be the saboteurs. They were all drinking gallons of tea to keep awake.

Scott stumbled into the parlor, his red coat slung over his arm. "Top o' the morning, Miss Brumpton!"

The corners of her thin lips went down. "But it's evening!"

"Not for me." He set a large alarm clock. "I'm going to use a little hypnosis trick I picked up when I was a mere pirate lad in Africa to get right to sleep." He settled down on the cot set up in the room. "Awaken me at the proper time, lass."

"All right." She returned to making the Liberty Tea. She looked over her shoulder at the dark-haired man who slept in the cot before hiding the tins. These were special types of tea...ones that would make sure the cast would never make it through the first day.

Brumpton was rather disappointed when Scott leaped out of bed the moment the alarm went off. "Why lass, you almost let me oversleep! I'm due on the stage in twenty minutes."

She rushed over with a cup of coffee. "Don't you want a little something before you go onstage?"

He pushed the cup away. "To be honest, lass, the tea isn't keepin' me awake anymore. I guess I've developed a resistance to it." He gathered his coat and made his way to the hall.

Scott was passing through the lobby when he saw Abernathy writing a letter at one of the desks. "What'cha doin', sir? Writing to family?"

Abernathy covered the letter quickly. "Oh, no. Just my employers at the Gazette. They'll need the full dispatch on the first part of the play by tomorrow." He stuffed the note in an envelope and pressed sealing wax over it. "I'll take this back on my way home for some much-needed rest. Another reporter will be around to take my post in a half-hour."

Even when tired, Scott's mind was working overtime. "You know, our own messenger could take this to the Gazette for you, for no extra charge, of course. I'll see to it that he gets it right away."

"Of course. That would be most useful. It would save me valuable time." He called outside. "Messenger!" Lester, still wearing his sandwich board, trooped in. "I have a letter for you to deliver to the...the Post Gazette." He looked at Scott, then scrawled something on the letter's envelope. Lester raised his eyebrows. "Take this to this address. If you get there in a half-hour, they'll be an extra two bits in it for you."

Scott opened the door for Abernathy. "Let me help you out. It's kind of my job at the moment."

The moment Abernathy hit the porch, Scott went to Lester. "Let me read that letter. Something's fishy here." He carefully opened the seal and read the contents. His eyes widened in shock. "Lester...this isn't for the Post Gazette. The address is for the riverfront. The Post Gazette's office is near the market place." He quickly resealed it. "Take this to the riverfront. Don't tell Abernathy you let me read it."

Scott pulled out his ever-present pocket watch. "Oh, would you look at the time? I have to get on that stage, before Hilary remembers she's too tired to commit several murders that aren't in the script." He gently pushed Lester out the door. "And you have to get moving." Scott hurried to the stage just in time to hear Hilary's annoyed squawk over his absence.

 **The Main Room, 8AM, The Next Day**

Even as he announced the start of _Two Gentlemen of Verona_ , Lord Jeffrey Singer was struggling very hard to stay awake. Scott Sherwood didn't seem too bad, but Hilary was in and out, Eugenia Bremer was half-asleep over her pianoforte, and Elizabeth looked as if she was about to fall over. It was a good thing they didn't have much of a breakfast crowd. Abernathy had gone home to bed; the man he'd sent to replace him temporarily was snoring in a chair right in the front of the stage.

Jeff was mid-way through a monologue when he heard a soft "thump." Everyone onstage all turned at once to see Elizabeth somehow asleep sideways on a stool. Jeff scratched his head. "How on Earth did she do that?"

Scott and Mr. Foley hurried over to her. "Lad, the important thing is, how are we going to bring her out of it?" He slapped her face gently, but her only response was gibberish.

Jeff just shook his head. "That's it. She's gone. She's not coming around."

Scott nodded. "I know." He turned to the audience. "Uh, due to a...technical malfunction...we'll be taking a five minute break. 'Scuse us." Mr. Foley and Lester drew the curtains.

Hilary just sat where she was, muttering to herself about coffee and mattresses. "What are we going to do?" Eugenia wailed.

"I have an idea." Scott turned to Mr. Foley. "Do you have strips of tea-dyed linen and dark berry ink?"

Eugenia beamed. "Of course he does!" Mr. Foley gave her a rather amused look.

 **The Green Parlor Room, 12 PM**

There was no way Lady Hilary Booth was getting out of that cot. Her dreams were too lovely. At least she could sleep in a cot. Poor Elizabeth had collapsed onstage. Scott and Mr. Foley wrapped soft linen the color of her pale skin, with eyes drawn in the center. It looked silly, but Elizabeth was kept in the back, and at least it didn't seem to bother the rowdy lunch crowd too much.

Abernathy gave Her Ladyship a small shove to make sure she was deep in dreamland before turning to Brumpton. "Are you sure that brew will work?"

"I picked it up at the apothecary in the village yesterday. If our herbal tea doesn't work, this will. Did you get a response to that letter?"

Abernathy nodded. "The guards took down all of the remaining posters for the play and replaced them with posters for the Weeping Joker Inn. There will be no audience tomorrow." He made a face. "Menlow's coming by this evening to look for the Crimson Blade. Apparently, his lady friend will be around tomorrow. I don't trust that man. I wish he didn't have to be involved. I don't care about the Crimson Blade. I haven't seen anyone who remotely looks like a Crimson Blade."

"Nor have I." She finished pouring a few drops of the bottle into the tea. "From what I've heard, though, he – or she – is a master of disguise. They could be anyone. Even..." Her eyes drifted to Lady Hilary on the cot.

Abernathy let out a short bark that may have been a laugh. "Her? She's just some aristocrat. She's no more a Crimson Blade than I am."

Jeff hurried in, stifling a yawn. "Hilary, dear, it's time to get up! You only have a few minutes!"

Hilary shook her head. "Oh Jeff darling, I was having a wonderful dream about being asleep..."

"Hilary!" He shook her hard. "You're due on-stage in ten minutes!"

She pushed him away. "All right. I'll go onstage." She made a face. "But I refuse to stand on my feet any longer."

 **The Main Room, 5 PM**

Elizabeth wasn't sure when she awoke. All she knew that she was conscious, and she could hear the audience murmuring, but she couldn't see them. Something was wrong. She let out a screech before she felt a set of strong arms direct her towards her right.

"Scott? Where am I? Why can't I see? Have I gone blind?"

She was never so grateful for her sight as she was when whatever was covering her eyes dropped from her head. She and Scott were in the wings, sitting on a prop bush. "I can see! Thank goodness! It's a miracle! Scott, what happened?"

"You took the world's longest nap right under Abernathy's nose is what happened!"

Elizabeth looked worried. "But I cheated! We're only supposed to sleep for fifteen minutes!"

He shook his head. "Liz, I know a lot more about cheating than you do. You're going to have to finish this play." He yawned heavily, trying to keep his own eyes open. "Eugenia can barely remember her own name, Foley hasn't spoken in hours, Hilary won't even stand up anymore, Jeff's nearly gone, and I...I have things I need to do."

Elizabeth saw the hard look in his eyes. "What things?"

"There's someone coming here tonight that I'm going to have to head off. I can't let him know that I'm here. Maple, either, or Jeff and Hilary. His name is Cribby Menlow. He tracks down errant spouses and other minor felons for a price. He's the most persistent weasel in the entire Pennsylvania Colony!"

Elizabeth yawned. "I don't remember seeing anyone like that, but I haven't been...there...for a while. I'll keep an eye out for him."

Scott nodded. "I'll warn Jeff the next time we have a break. I don't think Hilary's awake enough to comprehend anything but sleep." His yawn got wider. "Oh, sleep. How I wish..." He pinched himself hard on the arm, wincing. "Ouch!" He finally took Elizabeth by the arm. "All right now, lass. Let's finish that show. Remember, you're going on there a writer, but you're coming back...well, you'll be comin' back a writer."

"I'll keep that in mind." They both rushed back onstage.

 **The Downstairs Hallway, Around 6 PM**

"What?" Jeff Singer's eyes were wide. "Why..." he yawned, "would some tracker want me?" His yawn grew even wider. He leaned on the arm of the couch he and Hilary sat on earlier to keep from ending up on the floor.

"Pavla, at least for you." Scott yawned himself. "Mapes and I go way back with him." He wobbled, grabbing the other end of the couch. "Let us just be sayin' he's not the laddie to be givin' up." His Irish accent thickened with every word.

Jeff tugged his oversized velvet tunic. "Good thing we're already in costume. It'll be a lot easier to hide."

"I'm gonna need a different costume before the night be through, lad." He showed the bit of red under his own purple striped silk tunic. "The Crimson Blade will be payin' a visit to Mr. Abernathy tomorrow." Scott tried for his usual cheeky grin, but it looked more than a little lopsided. "He be wantin' to know what's the connection between him and that little tracker."

Jeff caught him before he pitched on the floor. "For now, maybe we ought to be onstage. Hilary may have pinched herself long enough to realize she and Liz are doin' monologues to each other."


	19. Chapter 18

**The Main Room, 6:45 PM**

Jeff was holding onto the back of the couch Hilary reclined in just so he could stay upright. Hilary hadn't left the couch in over an hour. She refused to stand up for more than a few minutes at a time. His eyes kept drooping. The tea in the parlor had long stopped doing anything to help.

That was when he saw...him. Through red-rimmed eyes, he could just barely make out a short man with a scrunched-up face like a sick rat's. The moment Hilary finished her line, Jeff swept her into his arms and carried her to the wings.

"Jeffrey darling, why did you take me from the couch?" She leaned into his arms without thinking. "I was...happy there..."

Jeff tried not to be distracted by how close she was, no matter how tired he felt. He sat her down on the couch. "Hilary, there's a man here. He wants to serve us papers."

She just stared at him. "Serve us papers? They'd taste terrible!"

"No, I think they're from..." he couldn't contain his yawn... "Pavla."

"He can serve her...to the rats, I think..." She leaned into him again.

He was fighting to keep his own eyes open. "Hilary, listen. Pavla...may not want to let me go...or my title, anyway..."

"She can't have you. I'm holding you now." She was nearly asleep in his arms. He shook her again.

"Hilary, wake up!" He managed a dazed grin. "Hilary, give me your costume."

"We can't do that anymore. We're not married."

"No. We're going to change roles."

"Yes, let's do that. Pass mine to the left, please."

 **The Main Room, 7 PM**

Abernathy met Cribby Menlow in the audience. There were quite a few eyebrows raised when Lord Singer walked back on in a dress, while Lady Hilary stumbled in wearing his hose and tunic. Both were much too long for her – she wasn't as tall as he was. The murmuring in the audience got even louder when Jeff started playing Hilary's role, and Hilary read Jeff's lines...at least, as well as anyone was reading lines at that point. Scott had to lean against a wooden tree to stay on his feet. Mr. Foley leaned against Eugenia and was rather pleased to see she didn't mind a bit.

Abernathy frowned. "What are they doing?"

Cribby made a face. "That's the worst-lookin' Antony n' Cleopatra I ever saw in my life!"

"That's Lord Singer and Lady Booth!"

"Really? I thought Lady Booth was a lot better lookin' than that."

He's the one in the dress! She's wearing the hose!"

"I didn't think they did that kind of stuff in Pittsburgh."

"Neither did I. I have no idea how they found out, but one of them must have gotten wind of your arrival and warned the others."

Cribby squinted at Scott. Scott took one look at him and ducked to the back of the stage, behind some scenery. "The guy with the black hair looks familiar."

"Scott Sherwood. He's one of the menial staff here."

Cribby looked at his pamphlet that announced the cast and the acts. "Ain't there supposed to be a Maple Martienne in this, too?"

"I was told she was ill and unable to perform. Miss Roberts took her place."

"I'd love to have a chat with all of these people. Includin' the guy with the dark hair."

Abernathy nodded. "Any kind of distraction is appreciated. We need to find out who owns this Inn."

Cribby shrugged. "I don't care if George Washington owns this inn! I have papers to serve, and I need to find the guy and dame for my boss."

 **The Hallway, around 9 PM**

Eugenia Bremer never felt so tired in her entire life. She and Mr. Foley were practicing their dancing steps and dousing each other with water to try to keep on their feet. They were doing a rather nice minuet when Eugenia bumped into someone going towards the green parlor room.

Cribby tipped his hat at the plump, amiable lady and her slender friend. "Sorry, ma'am. Didn't mean to disrupt ya there."

She yawned. "Oh, that's perfectly all right! We're just dancing our cares away. Anything to stay awake!"

Cribby nodded. "Have you seen a Lady Booth and Lord Singer?"

Eugenia could remember a name Scott told her and the cast earlier in the sleep-filled haze. "Is your name Cribby Menlow?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is."

Eugenia took his hand. "Then I'm Lady Hilary Booth, and this" she put an arm around Mr. Foley, "is Lord Jeffrey Singer." She tried to imitate Hilary's affectations without falling over. "Of course." Mr. Foley just gave him the biggest smile he could muster.

"You're both a little...short...for their Lord and Ladyship."

She playfully nudged his arm. "Oh, you know how the drawings in the newspapers add 30 stone and a meter or two. I'm really..." she nearly fell over him trying to measure a height well above her head, "this tall."

"Well, that'll be between you n' me, Lady Booth." He nodded at the Green Room. "I have papers I need both of you to sign."

Eugenia gave him what she hoped was an alluring smile, but the effect was spoiled by an enormous yawn. "Oh dear! I'm so sorry, but Lord Jeff and I really must get back on the stage. Don't we, Mr. F...um, my darling?" Mr. Foley just nodded dazedly. He didn't really know what was going on, other than his sweet Eugenia just called him "darling."

"Why don't I just wait for your next break, then?"

"You do that." Eugenia beamed. "Why don't you have a cup of tea? They've been putting the most wonderful flavoring in it. You could take it in the, uh, office. Don't want to disturb anyone napping."

"Sure, I'll try a cup."

Cribby wasn't sure what happened. He took two cups of tea to the office the plump lady indicated. He knew darn well she wasn't Lady Hilary Booth. The little man was no Lord Jeffrey Singer, either. He'd wait until he heard one or the other in the hallway to spring the papers on them.

He wasn't sure when it happened. He drank one cup of tea, hoping it would keep him awake. It did the opposite. He felt even more tired. He drank another. He went back to the still-empty parlor and got another cup. It was after the third cup that he felt his eyes get hazy...and then everything got dark.

 **The First Floor Hallway, 10 PM**

Three heads peered into the manager's office. Scott let out a sigh of relief. "He's out cold."

Elizabeth nodded. "He's the tracker? The man who is after you and Maple and Jeff and Hilary?"

Jeff was clutching the door. "At least that will buy us some time." He closed his eyes. "Buy us time...can you buy time..."

Elizabeth grabbed his arm. "Whoa, boy! You've got to get back onstage." She raised an eyebrow. "And you can go back to wearing trousers for now." She carefully looked him over. "Besides, that dress clashes with your eyes."

"Oh, ok." She gently shoved him down the hall, then turned to Scott. He was leaning against a wall, his eyes shut. "Now, you talk. What's this all about?"

"A few years ago, Maple and I worked on...er...a little job together. We were set up to take the fall from two fellows who claimed they had a new kind of wax for candles and seals. We got out of Boston before he could catch us."

"And he thinks you're guilty?"

"Sure as hope not." He stumbled as he reached for his pocket watch. Elizabeth took his arm. "Oh, would you take a look at that time? It's very pretty time." He gazed dazedly into Elizabeth's warm, dark eyes. "Very pretty."

Elizabeth blushed. "Let's get you back on the stage."


	20. Chapter 19

**The Porch, 7 AM, The Next Morning**

Clifton Abernathy did not like dealing with pirates. Or any kind of criminals. He preferred getting his job done. "Look, Captain DeVile, all I know is, he's sleeping at the Inn. He has the papers. He'll deliver them to their Lord and Ladyship as soon as he can."

"How soon will that be?"

"As soon as possible. It's still early." He nodded at the mangy thugs behind her. "Couldn't you have told them to wash up and look slightly presentable?"

Pavla smirked and played with his cravat. "Now, how can they frighten audience away if they do not look frightening?"

"They don't look frightening. They look like they rolled in the nearest manure pile."

A few snarled behind them. "Aw, now you go and hurt their feelings." She patted his cravat in place. "Why don't you go do job and make sure cast sleeps? When Cribby is awake, he will deliver the papers...and we will deliver Crimson Blades to our good friend the Governor."

"They don't have any feelings!" He pushed her hand off his chest. "I'm doing my job. All I want is for my employer to get the Inn. He promised me the new manager job for the Monongahela after we oust Comstock and the rest of the staff. Now, you start doing yours." He stomped so hard into the lobby, the wooden porch bounced.

The pirates met two men at the door. "What are you guys doin'?"

One of the men frowned. "We're goin' to see the show."

"No, ye ain't, boy." They shoved them off the porch. "Get lost. Ain't no one comin' here."

Pavla nodded. "Very good. Do that for anyone who tries to get in. I'm going to get cheese and wine at the tavern down the street. When I come back, we will find Cribby." She smirked. "And perhaps, find Crimson Blades, too."

 **The Servants' Quarters, 11 AM**

"Madame Gertrude, I am feeling better," Maple protested as Gertrude brought her a bowl on a tray. "I do not need le chicken soup. I have had so much chicken soup, I feel like I have feathers!" She sneezed miserably into a pink flowered handkerchief. "Why must I get sick now?" She sighed and leaned back in her bed. "How is show going?"

"Not well." Maple leaned forward and let Gertrude fluff her pillow. "Everyone but Elizabeth is ready to keel over." Gertrude frowned and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. "I'm going over there right now. I've thought those two people from the Daily Gazette were up to no good. I want to take a look at that tea they've been giving the staff."

"I'm going with you." Maple was already getting out of bed. She went to the linen press to find a gown that was somewhat more presentable than her nightdress. "And don't say I am sick! I don't care. These are mon amies, and they have worked hard on this play." She finally grabbed a simple pale green-striped work dress and pulled it over her shoulders, then grabbed her red wool cloak. She didn't even bother with her stays. She just wanted to make sure the cast wasn't in trouble. "Let us go."

 **The Porch, 12 PM**

Victor Comstock knew there was something reprehensible going on the moment he saw the ruffians assaulting people at the entrance. He had ridden home from Fort Pitt that morning, only to see paying customers being turned away from the Inn. Maple Martienne stumbled next to him.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." She blushed, trying to straighten her hair. "Is good to see you. When did you arrive at home?"

"Just this second." He saw her pale face and heard the sneeze that rattled several bushes. "I thought you were running a cold."

"I thought you were running hotel."

He nodded at the pirates at the door. "Contemptible lot. Where did they come from?"

"I do not know." She made a face. "But I can make crazy guess. I recognize them from the raid on marketplace at Noel. They are Pavla DeVile's men."

"She's here?" His eyes looked concerned. "We'll need to inform the others. The last time she came anywhere near any of the residents or staff of this Inn, she forced Jeff into an unwanted union and had me placed under hypnosis. No telling what depraved acts she has in mind for our comrades."

She took his arm. She really liked the feel of his arm. It was surprisingly strong and sinewy under his heavy shirt. "We will use basement entrance. It is not guarded. I already sent Madame Gertrude et Monsieur Eldridge that way." She lead him through the alley and back to the garden.

 **The Main Room,** **12:05 AM**

Victor Comstock couldn't believe his eyes. The stage was sheer, unapologetic madness. Elizabeth stood in the center, reciting all the Shakespearean sonnets she could remember. Gertrude was walking around with Lord Singer, who for some reason, wore his ex-wife's favorite lavender gown. Lady Booth leaned against a wooden window in trousers and a loose white blouse, muttering about her ex-husband flirting with older women. Mr. Foley was pouring buckets of water on himself. Eugenia was doing jumping jacks. Scott Sherwood sat on the floor, staring at his silver pocket watch.

Victor went straight to Eugenia. "Dear God! What is going on here, Miss Bremer?"

"We're doing everything we can to stay awake!"

"So I see." There were only two audience members, a man with a rather weasel-like face and a larger fellow with a heavy gray mustache and thick gray hair. He turned to them. "May I ask you gentlemen how this occurred? I know sleep deprivation can do unusual things to its victims, but they shouldn't be this depraved!"

Cribby Menlow yawned. "Don't look at me, pal. I'm only the guy waitin' for them to get offstage. I just got up myself."

Abernathy glared at Victor. "I have no idea." He stood. "Would you excuse me, please."

Victor watched him leave, then climbed onstage. He went to Hilary next. "Your Ladyship, are you quite yourself?"

"Not sure. Could be me. Maybe Jeff."

Victor frowned. "I think you should lie down, Your Ladyship. You appear to be on the brink of collapse."

"I'll do that. Night-night, Vic!" She fell to the floor, too tired to do anything but sleep where she was.

Victor turned to Gertrude and Lord Singer next. "How much tea did they have to drink?"

Gertrude frowned. "They've barely drank anything else but tea in the last two days!" Lord Jeffrey was reciting every play he'd ever been involved with in Gertrude's ear.

Elizabeth was trying to awaken Hilary. "No, Hilary, please! We only need to stay onstage five minutes more!"

Scott yawned. "You said that ten minutes ago." He stared at his watch again, then held it out to Victor. "Vic, what does this say?"

"I assume you can read a watch. You're always pulling that particular one out of your pocket. It says 12:15."

Scott finally managed to get to his feet. He pointed to the clock that always hung near the stage in the main room. "Then that clock is wrong. Someone stopped it."

Victor took the clock off the wall. "They removed the mechanisms, probably during one of your intermissions." He went onstage. "Ladies and gentlemen...uh, gentleman. The Monongahela Inn and Theater has just broken the record for a dramatic performance."

Cribby stood up, stretching. "Great, skinny. I just need to talk to Lady Hilary Booth and Lord Jeffrey Singer." He shook his head as Jeff finally sagged in Gertrude's arms, out cold. "Maybe I should wait for a better time. Like when they're awake." Eugenia and Mr. Foley were already asleep on the couch on the set, Mr. Foley's head pillowed in Eugenia's lap.

Victor nodded. "Yes, I recommend you do that. They'll need at least eight hours of sleep or more after the past few days of non-stop performance."

Elizabeth turned to Scott, the only other actor onstage who hadn't passed out. "Are you all right?"

"No," Scott admitted, his Irish accent slurring badly. "I have somethin' I need to be dealin' with." He stumbled off the stage, quickly shoving the watch into his pocket on his way.

Cribby watched him leave. "Who is that guy? I know I've seen him before."

"I've asked that same question for weeks." Victor frowned. "Sherwood is a fine worker and a decent actor, but I believe he isn't telling us the whole truth about his identity or his activities outside of the Inn. There's more to that Irishman than meets the eye."

Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge made their way over to Victor with a large earthenware jar, dodging the sleeping bodies on the stage. "Mr. Comstock, I really think you should see this."

 **The Green Parlor Room, That Same Moment**

Maple Martienne didn't like the look of that Abernathy man. There was something self-centered and almost smug about him. _He's up to no good. I'm sure of it!_

Her suspicions were confirmed when she walked into the parlor room and saw Abernathy and a fat, beady-eyed woman pouring something from a glass bottle into a teapot. She ignored the big sneeze coming on and darted over to them. "Oh no, you do not! I do not think you should do that!"

Victor Comstock entered just in time to see Maple yank the bottle away from Abernathy's grasp. "Look at what I have found! They put some of this into tea! I am certain it is drug for sleeping."

She handed Victor the bottle. He turned his piercing mahogany glare to Abernathy. "It's Valerian. An herbal sedative that aids insomniacs and other people who can't sleep in getting some relaxation."

Gertrude waved the jar. "I found this in the hall clothes press. It's a fruit tea...an herbal tea."

Mr. Eldridge pointed at Miss Brumpton angrily. "She told me it was a flower tea!"

"No, herbal," Victor explained. "Herbal tea is good for soothing your nerves, but it has nothing in it to keep you awake."

The door flung open as Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge were gasping. The Crimson Blade, in full regalia from his black hood to his bright red shirt to his high leather boots, stumbled into the room. He held up his sword, but his gloved hand trembled. A none-too-happy Elizabeth followed him.

"This man is a liar and a cheat." He lifted the sword as close to Abernathy as he could. "He's workin' for Crawley at the Weepin' Joker Inn. He's their manager. This be the man I overheard talkin' to him the other day. Aye, I thought I recognized ye. He, Crawley, and their business partner wanted to sabotage the play. Crawley wants the record to remain his. He's after the Inn, and all the ideas we...ye have generated for it. He ordered the posters taken down. The more people hear about our little hotel, the less they go elsewhere...including to the Weeping Joker."

Victor's eyes narrowed further. "I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the miscreants at the front door were your idea as well, Abernathy."

Elizabeth looked worried. "What miscreants?"

"He's got some dirty thugs standing guard at the door, keeping paying customers out." Maple sneezed. "That's why you had an audience of two this morning."

"They aren't my miscreants! They were my employer's suggestion!"

Brumpton glared at him. "I didn't know anything about this. I've been in here for most of the last few days."

Victor blocked Abernathy at the door. "I already sent Lester to bring the police. Thankfully, the miscreants seem to have fled. I suppose they felt their presence wasn't required once the show reached its conclusion."

Maple grabbed Brumpton's fleshy arm. "Don't think you go anywhere, soeur."

The Crimson Blade's tired brown eyes blazed. He finally dropped his sword and went right into Abernathy's face, holding up a black-gloved fist. "Abernathy, I'll be tearin' ye limb from limb, ye two-timin', stiff-necked swine!" Elizabeth saw him sway and caught him just in time. He leaned on her arm. "Just as soon as I be finishin' me nap."

Maple saw The Crimson Blade fall the floor next to his sword. She hurried to help Elizabeth get him onto the couch. "I wonder what's gotten into him?" Elizabeth fretted.

"They must have drugged him somehow, or he partook of the same tea as the staff and cast." Victor was leading Abernathy out the door. "Elizabeth, tend to the Crimson Blade. Make sure he's unharmed. I'm sure there's a plethora of policemen who will want to learn more about how he discovered this knowledge."

Maple gulped. She wanted to help her friend, but she didn't want to give herself away. Someone had to take over their work. "You take care of him, Elizabeth. He is bon homme. He is not bad, as some people say. He has his reasons for doing what he do."

Elizabeth saw the real concern and fear in Maple's brown eyes. "I will, Maple. I promise."

The moment she was alone with him, she couldn't resist. "I'm sorry," she told the sleeping man as she sat down on the couch alongside him. "I have to know. I already kind of do know. Maybe I've known for a long time, but didn't want to admit it."

She slowly tugged the hood away from his head. Somehow, she wasn't surprised to find the familiar face of Scott Sherwood underneath, his breathing heavy and his thick dark hair in disarray. "Oh Scott," she murmured, cradling him in her arms, "why? Why did you do this? Why did you risk so much?"

His blood-shot eyes opened briefly. "Didn't want to lose you...not like them...not like home..."

She held his head close to her. "Shh, Scott. It's the sleep deprivation talking. You need rest."

His eyes were already closing, his voice lost in a fog of sleep. "Love...love you..."

She smiled a little. "I love you too, Scott Sherwood." But his head had already dropped onto her breast. He snored lightly. She leaned over him and gave him a little kiss on the forehead. She couldn't help it. He looked so gentle and helpless sleeping there, like a little lost boy playing bandits and Indians.

She finally let him go, stretching and yawning. She needed to help Victor with Abernathy and the police, and then some real rest in her own bed upstairs. For now, she'd get something besides tea to drink, then see if she could get Scott out of that outfit, or at least hide the hood, sword, and red shirt. They were a little too obvious. Elizabeth thought she heard footsteps down the hall, but she assumed it was Victor and Maple. If she'd turned around even a little at that moment, she would have seen someone very different...and very unwelcome.

"That's him." Cribby Menlow lead the woman in the colorful, tight-fitting suit and several of the "miscreants" who had been at the door into the parlor. "That's the guy Governor Pruitt paid me to find for him. He's been lookin' for this jerk for years."

Pavla yanked Scott by his hair. He winced, barely conscious."This is Herr Crimson Blade, all right." She held up the hood. "This is what he use to hide himself." She yanked his head harder, throwing the hood on the floor. "No more. He is ours now."

"Hey," Scott croaked. "what...who..." His hazy eyes drifted toward Cribby. "Menlow...Pavla?"

"Oh yeah." Cribby smirked. "I'm gonna get a pretty penny for this guy. There's a price on his head that would pay for the Ursula Gothel three times over."

Pavla laughed as they bound Scott hand and foot with heavy rope. "So this is the indestructible Crimson Blade! A mere kitchen worker. How...amusing." She roughly wound a linen napkin from the tea table in his mouth. Two of the men threw what looked like burlap bags over him. "Shall we take our prize to my ship? Someone will be arriving who would very much like to have a little chat with him."

Elizabeth saw the retreating backs go down the hall, but she assumed they were guests. "Scott?" She entered the parlor...only to see Scott wasn't there. She picked up his hood. "Scott?" Scott wasn't anywhere in the parlor. He wasn't in the manager's office either, or the kitchen. She met Victor and Maple coming from the lobby as she hurried down the hall. "Have either of you seen Scott?"

Maple looked worried. "He is missing?"

Elizabeth nodded. "He was sleeping in...well, he was sleeping, but now he's not there. He was so tired. I don't know where he could have gotten to. I don't think he'd make it to the servants' quarters."

Victor frowned. "We'll help you search for him. He's in no condition to be wandering around."

Victor went on ahead. Maple stopped Elizabeth. She indicated the black fabric clutched in her right hand. "How did you get that? That is the hood of the Crimson Blade!"

Elizabeth looked around her. Seeing that Victor was already in the lobby and the hall was empty, she whispered "Maple, I know Scott is the Crimson Blade. It all makes sense. He saved me at the ball. No wonder he knew about the codes. He was the one who broke them. He came to me later that night in the garden. He may even have wanted to tell me his identity then, but Eugenia and Foley walked in." She put her hand on Maple's arm. "You took over after that, didn't you?"

She just barely nodded. "Oui. I have been member of his organization for long time. When the price on his head got high and Pruitt was breathing up our necks, he told me he would let me play role while the heat fell down." She looked right at Elizabeth. "I think what he really wanted to do was try to get back into your heart. That is what he cared about. He cared about you."

"I don't know what to think." She rubbed her head. "Let's find him first. Maybe we'll finally get some answers."

 **The Main Room, A Few Minutes Later**

Eugenia Bremer was having a lovely dream. She was dreaming that she was playing the lightest, fluffiest pianoforte with Mr. Foley by her side. Someday, she really needed to find out what his first name was...

Mr. Foley's eyes fluttered open briefly as loud voices could be heard in the lobby. "We have to get him to the ship, before Comstock and his little writer find out he is gone."

"Pavla, baby, I don't like this. You don't want His Lordship. Why rake him over the coals?"

"He can get me what I want. I want to be on the stage, with money of my own and adulation that doesn't come from skewering a man. I want to do more than act my way out of trouble with the authorities."

"You could do a lot more than act with me, baby."

"I'll consider it." Eugenia didn't hear what else they said, and she didn't care. Her dream was coming back...and Mr. Foley was just about to say the sweetest things to her, even if she couldn't hear them over the pianoforte...

 **The First Floor Hallway, An Hour Later**

Victor arrived as Maple and Elizabeth were. "Any luck finding Sherwood?"

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "None. He's nowhere in the main building."

"I could check the Servants' Quarters. Perhaps he make it there after all." Maple sneezed. "I need to get back, anyway, or I will end up on floor with the rest of the staff."

"I'll take you there." Elizabeth still felt a twinge of jealousy as Victor walked Maple to the back door. "Elizabeth, you check the carriage house. I doubt he went any further than that, unless he was carried."

"Right." Elizabeth watched them walk off together. She still was still very fond of Victor...but she wasn't sure if what she felt was love anymore, or simply admiration. Victor never seemed to make room for her in his schedule. Scott had literally saved her life several times. Scott...

 _Scott could be in trouble._ She hurried to get herself a cloak.


	21. Chapter 20

**The Garden, A Few Minutes Later**

Victor watched Maple Martienne as she walked across the mostly-bare courtyard. Even when she was sick, her walk...wiggled. There was no other way to describe it. Victor had to admit, it was a rather pleasing wiggle. His long strides effortlessly allowed him to catch up with her.

Maple grinned at him. "Bonjour! You know, this is tres dulche of you, taking me home like this. Even though I do not live far."

"Well, you are ill at the present time. It's only appropriate. I have to find Sherwood, too. He was the one who discovered Abernathy's machination. I'm afraid there could have been foul play committed, possibly by those ruffians who were guarding the entrance this morning."

"Oui, I am worried, too. Normally, I would say Scott is good at getting out of tight squeeze. But today, he is so tired, he would not be able to defend himsel...hims...achoo!"

"Gesundheit." He handed her his handkerchief. "Here. Yours looks like it's about to fall to ribbons."

"Merci." She took his gratefully. "This cold came at the worst time! Although, considering what happened. I am almost glad I missed the show. I would rather be sick than silly because I am not awake."

"It is extremely fortuitous that we happened to step in when we did. Elizabeth and the Crimson Blade wouldn't have been able to deduce Abernathy's scheme on their own."

Maple blushed. "Victor, about the Crimson Blade..."

Victor went on, watching her. "You know, it's the strangest thing. My memories of the day of my return are still very hazy, but I do distinctly remember an individual who called themselves 'The Crimson Blade' swinging out of a tree and landing on my chest." He gave Maple a small smile. "That Crimson Blade had a larger swelling in the breast area and was far more slender, with curves in very different areas than the one whom we encountered tonight."

"Uh, oui. Perhaps he, uh, was in disguise?"

"I don't believe that's the truth." He stopped at the door. "Miss Martienne, how did you happen to come to be employed by the inn?"

"By carriage. At the time, I work at a theater in Pittsburgh."

"In what capacity?"

"Oh, it seat about three hundred or so."

"No, I mean, what was your position there?"

"Usually I was positioned on stage right, a little off to the center, with the chorus."

"And you answered an advertisement..."

"Actually, Scott told me. He said the original maid left, could you take her place? I could not resist. I was a maid in France before I come here to the colonies. I'd been working for a duke in Paris who thought I was tres belle. He was going to put me up in a nice house in Cannes, but mon dieu! It turns out, he already had a wife. I left for the colonies instead. I thought it would be safer."

Victor touched her hand. "You deserve far more than that, Miss. You're commendable at your job, a talented singer and actress..." He smiled that sweet little smile that made him almost look like a boy, "and you're a courageous and charming Crimson Blade."

Maple stepped back in surprise. "You know? How..."

"It wasn't that difficult to put the pieces together, once I was thinking clearly. There are two Crimson Blades. The man was far larger and brawnier than the woman. He spoke with an Irish lilt; her French accent matched yours perfectly. They didn't look at all like one another. It also would explain how the Crimson Blade was able to continue his activities, even after the Governor put a ridiculous price on his head. He had a confederate who aided him in pulling the wool over the eyes of the authorities."

She looked in his cool brown eyes. "I thought all you cared about was the government and the colonies. You never seemed to notice the Crimson Blade, or...well, or moi. Even that night, when I land on you, all you did was tell me what I did wrong."

"I was under hypnosis! My mind wasn't fully functioning at that time!"

"Or at any time." She sneezed again. "I have been trying to get your attention since you return! You do not notice anything but your work! Do you not have any romance in your soul at all? Any feeling besides what we must do for colonies?"

He frowned. "It's true, Miss Martienne. I do get wrapped up in my work. But I do it for the Inn, and for Elizabeth, and all the Elizabeths and Maples in these colonies." He took her hand. "I want us to be free to rule and govern ourselves. All men and women should be free, Maple. These taxes and rules that the King has imposed on us in the past few years are grievously and morally wrong. This tyranny must be stopped! Just as you use your weapons and your criminal endeavors to make that freedom a reality, I use words and speech."

"Do you love Elizabeth?"

Now he was the one blushing. "Well, yes. I mean, I thought I did, but..."

"But..."

"But I know she's upset over my having abandoned her, more or less, these past weeks. It couldn't be helped. I've had my work. She knows how I feel about it."

"Oui. I do, too." Her smile turned down quickly. "What do you plan on doing about the Crimson Blade? Are you going to tell police about us?"

He sighed. "I should. You are a criminal, and the Inn could use that reward." He frowned. "However, that would be blood money. Your aspirations seem to be noble, even if the way you go about obtaining the money isn't. I could help you find a less criminal way of earning enough to aid the staff of the Inn and the people of this village and colony."

"Merci!" She hugged him. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you keep our secret!" She turned on her enormous, white-toothed smile. "See you tomorrow, Monsieur?"

"Yes, Miss Martienne. I'll be here for a few days before I'm to return to Fort Pitt to begin more talks with the military garrison."

Maple sighed. "I'll look forward to every minute." She watched him go around the door to the men's quarters before entering the door to the women's. _I'm going to have tres bon dreams tonight, and they'll all be about Victor Comstock!_

 **The Lobby, Later That Evening**

Mackie Bloom arrived at the Monongahela Inn just as the sun was sinking behind the trees and the Servants' Quarters. He was glad to see the old place again. He'd gotten letters from the others about some kind of big show they were putting on. He wished he could have gotten home sooner and seen it, but the carriage ride from Philadelphia had been held up by a sudden spring snowstorm. All he wanted was for a hot bath and a good meal, even if he had to lug the water all the way from the river and heat it himself.

"Gertrude?" He wasn't expecting the lobby to be so quiet. Usually, there was at least one or two other people milling around, or someone checking in. "Mr. Eldridge? Elizabeth? Maple?" The shadows that fell in the lobby seemed eerie in the waning afternoon sunlight. He was starting to wonder if he was the last person left in Pittsburgh.

"Hello?" He made his way into the main room...and what he saw there made him stop short, his eyes wide with horror. Hilary, Jeff, Mr. Foley, and Eugenia were all laying on the stage, unconscious. Mr. Foley did seem pretty happy pillowed on Eugenia's comfortable lap. "They're dead!" Mackie wailed. "They're all dead! Someone killed them! It's murder!" He looked around. "Don't tell me there's more British spies here! I knew it was a mistake to leave the staff all alone, without my protection!"

Jeff began to stir just as he climbed onto the stage. "Mackie?"

Mackie hurried over to him, his eyes wide. "Jeff? What happened? Why does everyone look dead? And why are you wearing Hilary's lavender dress?"

"It's a long story." Mackie helped Jeff over to the edge of the stage. "Someone tried to sabotage the show. Scott told me. That's all I remember. I know things got pretty crazy towards the end. There was some man...Menlow, or something...who wanted to serve us papers from Pavla." He looked around. "Where is Scott? And Elizabeth?"

"I have no idea. I came back to find no one around and all of you passed out."

Hilary was groaning. "I haven't felt this horrible since the last time I had an all-night tea party with Prince John Barrymore. What was in that tea we drank?"

Mackie frowned. "What tea?"

Hilary and Jeff were bringing Mackie up to date when Elizabeth hurried in. "Thank goodness you're awake! Have you seen Scott?" She smiled at Mackie and gave him a hug. "And it's nice to see you back."

Mackie grinned. "It's nice to be back, Liz." His grin quickly turned into concern. "But what's this about Scott being missing? You look really scared, kiddo."

Jeff just managed to get to his feet. "Scott's gone?"

Elizabeth nodded "We've searched everywhere in and around the Inn. He isn't anywhere. I'm afraid..." She stopped, her voice trembling. "Someone could have taken him."

"Menlow." Jeff looked at her. "Scott said Cribby Menlow is after him and Maple."

Elizabeth frowned. "But why? Those warrants Scott told me about can't still be standing." She shook her head. "No, I can guess. The price on Scott's head. He was after the Crimson Blade."

Mackie looked surprised. "Liz, you know?"

Jeff frowned. "How did you find out?"

She sighed. "I'll explain later. Let's just say I know who Scott is, and that he's in danger...and Maple's probably in danger, too."

Hilary nodded, rubbing her head. "Elizabeth, was there something in that tea? My head feels like it's stuffed with enough cotton to fill every quilt in this hotel three times over."

Elizabeth was telling them about Abernathy and Brumpton's deception when Victor strode into the room. He looked thoughtful, and perhaps a bit distracted. He smiled and went to Mackie when he arrived. "It's good to see you back, my friend. Your presence at the Inn has been badly missed."

He saw Elizabeth open her mouth and shook his head. "No, I haven't found Scott. It's starting to get dark. We'll start combing the village for him in the morning." He helped Hilary to her feet. "For now, all of you need to sleep in a real bed. We still have an Inn to run."

Victor helped Elizabeth climb off the stage. "Are you certain you're all right, Elizabeth? I know you're upset over Scott's disappearance. So am I. He had valuable information that needs to be reported to the police as soon as possible."

"I'm fine, Victor. Just fine." Victor didn't think the haggard look in her face reflected her casual tone. She was genuinely concerned for Sherwood's welfare, and not just because of the knowledge he carried. He knew Sherwood was rather fond of Elizabeth. It was hard not to notice how often he went out of his way to be around her. He wondered what would happen when they found him. Did he want him to stay? He could certainly use his help with the managing duties. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he liked Sherwood's attentions to Elizabeth. It was unseemly to fawn over a woman so blatantly.

 _Then again..._ His eyes went to the windows that showed the back garden, and the servants' quarters. _Miss Martienne is quite lovely herself, and far more intelligent than she'll admit. She did work undercover as the Crimson Blade for many months without being detected. That took some cunning._ He finally shook his head. He had pamphlets to write and an inn to run. He had no time for romantic overtures. Not even to the Crimson Blade.


	22. Chapter 21

**The Main Room, The Next Day**

"Hilary, won't you listen?" Jeff had been following Hilary all morning. She thought he was beginning to be a bit annoying, dogging her heels like a puppy following its master. He was there at breakfast. He served her tea before her first play. He brought her the newspaper. "Cribby Menlow is supposed to be coming around with the papers today! I'll be a free man within the week!" He took her hands. "Darling, I love you. I've never loved anyone else. Won't you please give me a chance?"

She pulled away. "I've given you chances, Jeffrey. Every time I give you a chance, you trample on it."

"I want a real wedding this time, Hilary, with real registered priests in town. No more playing games. I know what I feel for you is love. I was never in love with Pavla. She only loves power and money." He looked into her eyes. "Will you be my wife?"

She sighed. "Jeffrey, we have a show to do."

She was already stepping onstage when Jeff followed her. They were supposed to be appearing in a musical about a boy and a girl and a ballad today, but the last thing she felt like was singing. She had no idea how to tell Jeff the reason she couldn't marry him again. It wasn't that she didn't want to. She still cared about him. She just had...other obligations.

She was worried about Scott. Victor and Lester were out now, looking for him. No one had seen him anywhere in the Inn. None of the guests had seen him, nor their regular audience members. Poor Elizabeth was practically pacing the halls, waiting for any sign of his usual "Lizzie Lizzie Lizzie." Maple, who claimed she felt well enough to return to work, was pale and upset.

Jeff put a hand on her shoulder as the curtain opened. "Are you all right, Mittens?"

She nodded, trying to ignore the use of the familiar nickname. "Yes, Jeffrey, I'm fine. Just fine."

"Hilary, I have to do it." He pulled her to the front of the stage the moment the curtain rose. He bowed to the audience. "Hello, everyone! I have an announcement to make." He turned to Hilary. "My dear one, Lady Hilary Booth, would you be my wife?"

Hilary bit her lip. "Jeff, I can't. I just...I can't." She looked down at her frill-trimmed gloves. "I'm married to someone else."

His eyes widened. "Hilary..." She hurried offstage. He turned to the audience. "Um, we'll be taking a five-minute break while we...sort out some difficulties with the cast." He rushed after her.

Hilary was sitting in the parlor. "Hilary...who is it? Who did you marry?"

Hilary looked up at him, her eyes full of frustration and sadness. "Scott."

"Scott?" He frowned, sitting next to her. "Why? I thought he drove you crazy!"

"Oh Pumpkin!" She turned away. "It wasn't because I love him. I mean, I like him. He can be a good friend, when he's not going a mile a minute on some scheme and actually respects me for five minutes. His heart belongs fully to Elizabeth. He married me to get some money that belongs to him. He thought my connections could help get his inheritance."

"Why did you do it?"

She finally looked at him. "I wanted to get back at you. You don't know how badly your marriage to Pavla hurt my heart and my pride. She told me you approved of her kidnapping me!"

His eyes widened in fury. "God, I want to tear her limb from limb, and I don't care if she is a woman! I would have gone to the ends of the Earth for you if I'd been there! You know I'd never do anything to harm you, ever!"

"Jeffrey, you say that, but...you married her. That hurt more than all the kidnapping in the world could."

Jeffrey took her hand. "My darling, isn't there anything I can do to prove how much I love you?"

Hilary shook her head. "I don't know, Pumpkin. I love you...but then, I can't stand you. I suppose that's how real love works. At least, that's how it works for us."

Jeff was about to kiss her again when Mackie Bloom stuck his head in. "Are you two going to finish this play, or am I going to have to sing 'The Ballad of Mackheath' to myself?"

"We'll discuss this later." Hilary gathered her skirts, but her walk seemed to have lost its usual haughty flounce. Jeff had never felt so defeated. If they couldn't find Scott, he'd never get him to release Hilary.

They were half-way through Act II when she came in. Mackie tapped Jeff on the shoulder just as he was about to make a rousing speech for all of the rabble in London. "Uh, Jeff," he whispered, "don't look now, but guess what the river sharks dragged in?"

Captain Pavla DeVile sat in the front row. She was dressed as ostentatiously as ever, in a yellow flowered gown and plumed hat that left little to the imagination. Several heads turned and looked her way as she wedged between a plump woman in pink gown and a little man in a green jacket.

Jeff narrowed his eyes. "What does she want?"

"Nothing good, I can tell you that."

Jeff clenched a fist. "Mackie, I have got to talk to her the moment we step off the stage."

"Do you think that's a good idea? Not only does she usually come with about four or five really ugly and nasty pirates hanging around her, but Hilary's already mad at you. If she sees you within five millimeters of that woman, who knows what she might end up maiming?"

"I told Hilary I'd prove to her that I love her, and I will. I'm going to get those papers off of her by any means necessary."

"Jeff, I don't like this. I don't trust that woman."

"I'll be all right, Mackie. I can handle her now. I know her tricks." Jeff smiled at him and finished his speech, to thunderous applause.

Mackie wasn't too sure. He saw that familiar glint in Jeff's eyes. He had the same hard gleam when he decided to go back to Boston to take over Victor Comstock's work. The last time he'd tangled with Pavla, he'd ended up being forced into a marriage to save Victor that hadn't ended up doing anyone much good in the end, including the woman he really loved. _I hope he knows what he's doing._

 **The Lobby, After The Play**

Pavla knew he'd come. She had what he wanted – a way to return to that snotty little aristocrat of his. _He can have her_ , she thought. _She has everything – money, fortune, a title, a wealthy lover. Well, I'm going to get that, and more! I'm going to get what's coming to me._

"You...you harlot of a sea siren!" Lord Jeffrey Singer held a gun right at her. "Let me out of this marriage! I never wanted to marry you. I wanted to save Victor...and you went ahead and told the British about him, anyway. You lied to me, and you put Hilary through pure hell, all to fuel your own spite and ambition!"

"We can't always have what we desire, Your Lordship." She pulled out a gun of her own. "I could always use this on your beloved Lady Booth. Or perhaps, someone else at the Inn, like your friend Herr Comstock..." Her smirk became an evil grin "Or Herr Sherwood."

"Scott?" Jeff walked around her, making sure the gun was trained on her breast. "What do you know about Scott?"

"Quite a bit, actually. For instance, I know where he's been the past few days."

Jeff poked the gun further at her. "Where is he?"

"At my ship. He does have twenty thousand dollars on his head, you know. Herr Menlow and I thought it would be in our best interests to bring him to our employer and collect that reward. That money will go towards buying him lots of fancy things and me a coveted position with Trevor Zanish's drama troupe."

"Take me to him."

"Why should I?" She aimed her gun at him. "My employer wouldn't like that. He's been after Herr Sherwood...or should I say the Crimson Blade...for many years. Something about a debt he owes him."

Jeff put down the gun. "I can't do it. I can't hurt a woman. Even one as despicable as you. If you take me to Scott, I'll put in word for you to get that position with the acting troupe. Anything you want. Just let Scott go and break that marriage contract. I really, really need to talk to Scott."

Pavla went to him and patted his cheek. "That's a good boy." He shoved her hand away. "My ship, the Ursula Gothel, is tied up at Dock 16 at the waterfront, near O'Malley's Bar. My new friend and I want you to meet me there as soon as you've appeared in your final play of the afternoon. You're to come alone. If Lady Booth or anyone here is with you, Sherwood won't live to rob another rich carriage." His glare at her departing backside would have decimated whole armies.

 **The Main Room, Later That Evening**

They'd just put on the last play of the day, a rousing adventure story about a captain who was a soldier of fortune and his young apprentice, who traveled all over the colonies finding treasure and defeating evil. Eugenia was packing up her music for the night when she saw Lord Singer duck out into the Lobby in a dark cloak. He looked like he was trying to hide. Eugenia couldn't imagine from what. Perhaps Lady Hilary? She had been awfully angry at him lately. Lady Hilary could be rather frightening when she was angry.

"Your Lordship?" Jeff swirled around. "Begging your pardon, but what are you doing? You look a little nervous."

"I do?"

"Yes." Eugenia looked around. "Are you and Her Ladyship quarreling again?"

"Yes...no. Not exactly." Jeff frowned. "Eugenia, you can't tell anyone you saw me. It's a matter of life and death!"

"When Lady Hilary is in a bad mood, it can be a matter of life and death, too."

"You especially can't tell Lady Hilary. If she knew, she'd try to come with me."

"Don't you want her to come with you?"

"No!" He shook his head. "Eugenia, I'm going down to the docks. I'm on a...a secret mission."

"A secret mission? For the government again?"

"You might say that." He put a finger to his lips as he headed for the door. "Remember Eugenia, mum's the word!"

"Well, my mother lives in Altoona Village, and I don't know if she'd be listening for any words right now. She's a little deaf." But she said these words to an empty door. Lord Singer had already left.


	23. Chapter 22

**The Deck of the Ursula Gothel, That Night**

"Oh, this is just great." Jeff stumbled up the narrow, wobbly gangplank to the brightly-painted pirate vessel. "Where are you, Pavla? Where's Scott? Where's Cribby? Where are the papers? I brought you what you wanted. I talked to some people tonight. They'd be willing to take you at the Iron City Theater."

He could just barely see her, stepping out of the captain's cabin. Her navy velvet cloak matched the dark night. "Hello, Lord Singer." She put out her hand. "May I see those papers?"

He put out his hand. "Not until you give me the marriage contract and tell me where you're holding Scott Sherwood."

"Why should I?" She dangled what looked like a long roll of paper from her fingers. "After all, this paper makes me the wife of a peer of the realm. I could use your name to get me any role I chose. Or," she slowly made her way to him, "I could even keep you around. It wouldn't hurt to have two men with means of money." She reached up to stroke his hair.

"NO!" He shoved her away. "What is with you? Victor told me you did this to him, too. Why can't you get it through your head that we aren't interested? I married you to save Victor's secret. Which, I may remind you, you told the British about anyway. I don't want to stay married to a traitor like you any longer than I have to. It's Hilary I love. You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe I don't understand. I never had...love. Not like you and that spoiled brat of an aristocrat of yours."

"Don't you dare call Hilary that! She's more of a woman than you'll ever be!" _And I won't have her back unless I can find out where she has Scott._ He tried to keep his fingers from wrapping around Pavla's throat. "Where's Scott Sherwood?"

"Locked in the hold." She smirked. "I really don't want to let Sherwood go. There is a reward for his capture, after all. The Governor wants him badly." She held out the contract. "You wouldn't know who the other Crimson Blade is, would you?"

"What other Crimson Blade? You have Scott."

"There are two Crimson Blades." She walked closer to him. "My first mate was attacked by the Crimson Blade at the waterfront shortly before Christmas. That Crimson Blade was unmistakably female. I believe the words he used were "va-va-vavoom." She chuckled. "Sherwood is handsome, in a roguish way, but those are not the words I'd use to describe him."

"I have no idea who she is. I wasn't even there then. I was in Boston."

She started getting closer to him as he moved back towards the captain's quarters. "One more thing. A friend of the Governor's rather badly wants to buy the Monongahela Inn, but someone else got it before he could. You wouldn't know who owns it now?"

"I don't know that, either. Everyone at the Inn's been wondering the same thing." He looked around. "Where's Cribby Menlow? Shouldn't be be with you? He was supposed to serve those papers."

"Oh, he's making a little deal with the Governor for your friend Sherwood." Jeff fingered his pistol, but she grabbed his hand. "Oh, no. Don't start thinking that way, husband."

"I AM NOT YOUR HUSBAND!" He started to raise the pistol, but she smacked his hand. The gun flew to the deck.

"That was very stupid of you." Pavla got to it first, pointing it straight at him. "You're such a naive boy. You really believed I'd let a prize like the Crimson Blade go free, just because some empty-headed lord asked for it?" She pushed him with the gun. "Besides, you're a fine prize yourself. There's quite a few British military officers who wouldn't mind asking you about your activities in Boston."

"No!" Jeff lunged for her, but he was met by three of her men coming from beneath the ship. They grabbed his arms hard, dragging him back.

Pavla lifted his chin with the muzzle of the gun. "Throw my foolish husband into the hold with Sherwood. I'm sure the Governor will be very interested in everything he knows about Johnathan Arnold." He struggled as hard as he could, but the men were all larger than him in three directions. They finally dragged him into the bowels of the ship.

She put the pistol in her pocket as her first mate hurried up to her. "So, what's your next order, Captain? Are we gonna do another raid? Some keelhauling? Buried treasure?"

"No." She patted his shoulder. "How would you and your men like a little shore leave? I know you have to be bored. We've been tied up here for nearly a week." She smirked. "And you could bring me the third man our employer wanted – the famous Jonathan Arnold himself."

 **The Hold of the Ursula Gothel, A Few Minutes Later**

Pavla's men dragged Jeff down into the bowels of the ship. _How could I have been so stupid?_ He wondered. _Why did I fall for that trap?_

The men finally opened a heavy, barred door well below-decks, close to the water line. "Here ya go, mate. Your new home away from home while the boss lady decides when she's gonna have ya."

Jeff's eyes blazed. "I wouldn't touch that contemptible hussy if she were the last woman on Earth!"

The man turned to his friends with a short bark that might have been a laugh. "Do ya hear that, boys? Skinny thinks he has a choice!"

"I'm not that thin!" Jeff protested as they shoved him through the door. Jeff heard them lock the door, their raucous laughter echoing through the ship.

"Jeff?" Scott Sherwood looked up from the crates he'd made into a rough bed. "What are you doing here?" His eyes were bleary, and there were noticeable bruises on his arms and shoulders under the remains of his tattered crimson shirt.

"I came to save you." Jeff sighed and settled down next to him. "Now it looks like we both need saving."

"Jeff, is everyone all right?" He frowned. "Pavla won't give me any details. What happened with Abernathy and Brumpton?"

"To my knowledge, Abernathy and Brumpton were arrested for criminal conspiracy and are being held at the Pittsburgh Village jail. Mackie's home. He was kind of scared when he came in and saw us passed out after the show, but he seems all right now."

"And Elizabeth?"

"She's fine. She was terribly upset about you disappearing into thin air. She's had the whole inn turning Pittsburgh inside-out searching for you ever since the last day of 'When In Rome.'"

"My poor lass! She must be worried sick." Scott rubbed his shoulder. "Pavla, Cribby, and their apes attacked me while I was alone in the parlor room and too drugged to fight back. They trussed me up like a Christmastide goose and carted me to the ship. The apes thought the best way to wake me up and get me talkin' was to pound me with whatever was handy. I'm lucky my arms and collarbone aren't broken. My face would be, if I hadn't turned from them in time."

"Scott, do you love Elizabeth?"

"With all my heart, lad. I've never loved any woman more."

"Then why did you marry Hilary?"

"I did...and I didn't. It was a scheme. I wanted what was rightfully mine. She wanted something she could hold over you." He gave him a half-hearted grin. "If it's any consolation, I was very, very drunk at the time. I had the devil of a headache the next day."

"Scott, as soon as I can get to Cribby, I'll sign those papers, and I'll be free. I need you to release Hilary from her marriage contract. I love her. I love her more than I've ever loved any woman. I love her more than life itself, more than the air I breathe."

"I believe you. You can save the poetry for our next Shakespearean performance." He sighed. "You're the lucky one. You adore Hilary, and she loves you, too. Even if" he grinned "she has an odd way of showing it." He looked into Jeff's eyes. "The marriage papers are fakes. They're very good fakes, made by someone I know at the Pittsburgh Town Hall, but they're fakes. I was hoping they'd be enough to pull the wool over Pruitt's eyes."

"Why is this inheritance so important to you that you'd fake a marriage and risk prison and even death?"

"Pruitt took everything from me. I wanted a way to humiliate him, make him feel the pain I once felt. He put conditions on my family's money that one had to be married to gain it. He probably thought I'd never take a wife after Elizabeth spurned me." Scott chuckled. "He didn't count on the vengeance of one Lady Hilary Booth."

Jeff grinned. "Few people do."

 **The Basement of the Monongahela Inn, At That Same Moment**

"This is getting worse and worse by the minute." Mackie, Hilary, Maple, and Lester sat together around an old table in the center of the room. Mackie was shaking his head. "We've lost C.J and our boys, no one can find Scott anywhere, Pavla's on the prowl again, and Crowley wants the Inn!"

Hilary sighed. "Thank you for catching up all of our audience reading at home. That doesn't help us figure out what to do next." She turned to the others. "We need help. We're up against a notorious pirate, an Innkeeper with connections to the newspapers and the military, a well-known bounty hunter, and the governor of this colony." She tapped her fingers on the table. "And my Jeff is missing, too. I haven't seen him since the final play of the evening."

Mackie nodded. "Me either. Pavla was here. She was in the audience. I wouldn't put it past her to try something on him. He is still her husband by law, if not in spirit."

"Ooooohhh!" Hilary yelped. "If that witchy little piece of German wiener schnitzel has spirited away with my Jeffrey, I'll turn her into a spirit...with my bare hands!"

"Shhh!" Maple hissed. "Someone may hear us!" She made a face. "Ok, so we know Pavla's back in town, and that she's up to no good. Cribby is still here, too. He hasn't brought those papers around yet. I wouldn't be surprised if he is involved with Scott's vanishing into canned air, too."

"I'm certain the phrase is 'vanishing into thin air,' Miss Martienne." The four at the table stood as Victor Comstock appeared at the doorway. "It does, however, very much describe how Mr. Sherwood has seemed to evaporate into the twilight."

A whole parade trooped into the basement behind him. "This is amazing!" Eugenia Bremer gushed.

"You wanted more help." Gertrude grinned. "Here it is!"

"Oh my!" Mr. Eldridge looked around him. "This has been here all the time! Imagine the mathematics that went into making this room!" Mr. Foley nodded in agreement.

Maple groaned. "We need to install lock on door to basement! Where did all of you come from?"

Victor stood next to her. "The upstairs rooms. It was obvious, Miss Martienne. The Crimson Blade's occupations all revolved around this inn. He and his people weren't meeting anywhere else in the main building, or we would have witnessed them. The carriage house is too drafty and can be seen easily from the street. This is the only room in the Inn that isn't frequently inhabited. It's quiet and well-hidden. The windows are only visible from the garden, and just barely from the servants' quarters."

Hilary nodded. "Jeff, Mackie, and I all found this room in more-or-less the same way."

Elizabeth frowned. "Do any of you have any idea of what happened to Scott?"

Mackie shook his head. "Not a clue, Liz. Jeff's missing, too."

"Oh, he's fine!" Eugenia said brightly. "I saw him earlier tonight, after the play. He said he was on a secret mission, and I wasn't to tell my mother."

"Yeah, he was on a secret mission, all right." Cribby Menlow made his way down the rickety stairs. "A secret mission to get himself tossed in the hoosegow by my woman."

Victor Comstock nodded. "Everyone, meet Mr. Cribby Menlow, a tracker and bounty hunter. Hilary, he's the one who was to serve the papers suing Jeffrey for abandonment."

"He didn't abandon her! She abandoned him!"

Cribby put up a hand. "I know that, ma'am. I watched you people durin' that little show you put on the other day. You an' Lord Singer really have something cookin' there." He smirked. "I think Captain DeVile is more my type. I can give her what even Lord Singer can't – a rich theater producer for a husband."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "But there are no rich trackers...and most bounty hunters don't live long enough to make that kind of money."

He pulled a large bag of coins out of his pocket. "This is the reason I was late. I got twenty thousand dollars from Governor Pruitt for finding one of the Crimson Blades." He revealed a large pile of gold coins. "This should be enough for the two of us to live in comfort for a little while, maybe get her a role or two, then leave her high and dry after the money runs out."

Hilary grinned. "I think that's more than Pablum deserves, don't you?"

Elizabeth's eyes were frightened. "What happened to Scott Sherwood? Where is he?"

Cribby's face fell. "I didn't know I was sellin' the guy into slavery..."

"You WHAT?!" Maple and Elizabeth both leaped at him at the same time.

Cribby ducked away. "Look girls, I got the money for trackin' him down. Sellin' people ain't in my job description."

"I believe selling a human being is illegal in this colony," Victor added, fire in his own light brown eyes. "No wonder Pruitt has been so assiduously pursuing Sherwood. He considers him to be little more than a piece of renegade property."

"It is illegal, which is the other reason I don't do it. I find jail birds. I don't wanna join 'em." He joined the others at the table. "Sherwood's being held at Pavla's ship, the Ursula Gothel, at the waterfront. Pruitt's gonna collect him tomorrow. I wouldn't be surprised if Singer was there by now, too."

"That doesn't leave us much time." Victor turned to the others. "We're working together now. It doesn't matter if you're a noble or a maid, an actor or an innkeeper. We all have a common goal and a common struggle. We all want these colonies to be free of people like Crawley and Pruitt, who will eliminate smaller businesses and abuse power and human lives for their own gain."

Elizabeth nodded. "Why don't we take this upstairs? Now that we're all on the same page, it might be easier to figure out a plan of attack in a room that isn't as stuffy."

"I agree." Hilary pulled out a dainty handkerchief and sneezed into it. "When things are back to normal, you might want to consider sending someone down here with a broom. This room is filthy."

Cribby nodded. "Yeah, I've gotta get outta here. Pavla's probably wonderin' where I am." He frowned. "You've gotta be here by first light. We're shovin' off early tomorrow mornin', after Pruitt picks up Sherwood."

Elizabeth set her jaw. "We will be. We won't let him take Scott, or anyone else!"

Cribby nodded. "I'll stall Pavla. I'll meet the rest of you at Dock 13 at the first light." He hurried out the door that went into the garden.

Victor stopped Maple before she could join the others going upstairs. "Miss Martienne, you're exceedingly concerned about Sherwood, aren't you?"

"Oui. He is mon ami, my dear friend. We have fought and worked together for many years."

"Your loyalty to him is unqualified. You truly respect and...love...him, don't you?"

She stopped for a few minutes, thinking...and then, she grinned slyly. "Victor Comstock, are you jealous?"

"Me? Not at all!" He frowned. "How did you first happen to encounter him?"

Maple leaned against the railing, remembering. "I'd just arrived in Boston. I knew no one in the colonies. I could barely speak English." Her eyes closed. "I was still on the docks when two men came up to me. I thought they want to give me job. I didn't understand what they say. What they really wanted was to try to do harm to my womanhood. I fought them with hands, but they were very strong. They drag me to alley." She sighed. "Scott heard noise and came to investigate. I had kicked one of men in rear front by then. He get other against wall with sword and throw them out of alley."

She smiled, her eyes opening. "I didn't know what he said, but I got some idea that it had to do with food and not harming womanhood." She grinned. "We did do...things...later, but we were never that serious. He was more like mentor and friend than lover. My brothers already taught me to fight with hands. He taught me to fight with swords, to work on a ship and a horse, and how to steal and not get caught."

He smiled his little boy grin again. She grabbed the railing to keep her knees upright. "You're an incredibly courageous woman, Miss Martienne. I've never intersected with a person of the opposite sex who is anything like you."

"Whatever you just said, I will take it as compliment."


	24. Chapter 23

**The Main Room, A Few Minutes Later**

Victor and Maple quickly met the others at the now-silent stage. "We need to find out where they're keeping the rest of the Crimson Blade's men, including C.J," Mackie was saying.

Victor nodded. "I agree." He was already retrieving his cape from the hall press in the lobby. "While the rest of you learn what's became of them, I'll ride to Fort Pitt and alert the military there. I think they should know about more about the Governor's criminal endeavors these past few years. Besides, there's information I still need to give them about the British and their plans for General Washington's troops."

Elizabeth went to Victor's side. Maple sat on one of the benches intended for the audience, frowning. Elizabeth's brown eyes were frightened. "Victor, please be careful. You don't need to die again. There are thieves on the road who aren't nearly as noble as the Crimson Blade and his people, not to mention Pruitt's men are out there somewhere."

"I'm certain I won't encounter any difficulties on the road. It's only a short journey from the Inn to Fort Pitt." He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. "I'll return as quickly as possible." Elizabeth sat down on a bench as he left, confused.

Maple put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "I think, maybe you are not as in love with him as you were."

Elizabeth sighed. "I don't know what to think anymore."

Hilary joined them. "Maybe we ought to get to finding the others. I'm sure this will all come out after we've rescued Scott and my Jeff."

"I'm not so sure about that," Gertrude muttered. She saw how disappointed Maple looked when Victor left, and how perplexed he and Elizabeth were. Their feelings had changed, even if they weren't entirely aware of it.

Hilary looked up as the sound of feet in heavy boots could be heard stomping up the porch. "What is that?"

Mackie gulped. "I don't know, but it doesn't sound like I want to be around for it!"

They all stood at once as James Crawley lead a troop of the governor's guards into the main room. "Well, well. What do we have here? All the workers at my Inn."

"Your inn?" Mr. Eldridge shook his fist. "Now see here, young man, just because you have one inn doesn't mean you can say you have another! This inn is owned by someone else! Someone," he smiled a little bit, "a lot smarter than you are."

"Oh yes, I intend to find out who owns it soon enough. I'm still very interested in buying this little Inn. It would be perfect for what my good friend the Governor and I have in mind. I want the brilliant ideas all of you come up with to attract customers. He wants to use it as a gathering place for a few chums of our to discuss business with our contacts in England." He looked around. "There seems to be a few of you missing. Where are Mr. Comstock and His Lordship? Out for a drink at the Buttery Tavern?"

Lady Hilary Booth rose to her full height. "Mr. Crawley, I have no idea where my...where Lord Singer is. Mr. Comstock had an appointment in Pittsburgh Village with people who sell us costumes for our plays. He's running a little late."

"He must be running very late. Most costumers are long closed at this time of night." He waved his hand around. "I want them all all locked into their rooms." He pointed at Elizabeth, who moved back. "Except for that girl. The Governor had an interest in her."

"Oh no, you don't." Mackie growled. Mr. Foley had quietly made his way to the stage. He pulled out a prop sword he used in 'When In Rome' and tossed another to Mackie. "En guarde, you...dirty Innkeeper!"

Crawley just laughed. "Those aren't real. We use them for our plays, too."

Eugenia hurried to her pianoforte and leaned as hard as she could on the keys, drawing out a loud, long sound. Maple leaped next to her and played the keys on the other half, making as much noise as she could. Mr. Foley handed his sword to Lester and started banging on his gong.

The distraction gave Mackie just enough time to hit Crawley in the chin as the inn's remaining guests hurried downstairs. Elizabeth got onstage and pointed at Crawley. "Those men are trying to attack us! They're English spies who want to use us for their headquarters!"

That was enough to rally the other guests, who swarmed onto the guards. Fists and fake swords flew. Hilary took Mackie's sword. Lester tossed his to Maple and put his arms around a few of the female guests, ignoring the guards fighting around them.

Mackie grabbed Crawley by the lapels of his gray wool jacket. "Ok buddy, if you're a pal of Pruitt's, maybe you can tell us where he's holding the Crimson Blade''s men." He smirked at Maple alongside him, sword in hand. "Or my lady friend here just found herself a new pincushion."

"I will if you'll let me go."

"You'll let us know by postcard from scenic Boston!" snapped Elizabeth as she joined them, holding a prop pistol she found onstage.

Crawley's fat Adam's apple bobbed. "I'm not saying without a lawyer!"

Hilary smirked. "Now Mackie, that's no way to treat a fellow innkeeper. After all, he does own a very important establishment." She put an arm around him. "I'm sure he could tell us where those poor men are. Perhaps," she patted his cravat, "I could even have a talk with some of the richest merchants in Pittsburgh Village. I know many merchants who would put in a good word about his fine business."

Maple made a face. "Your Ladyship, what do you do?"

Hilary ignored her. She lead Crawley to the benches. "Why don't we discuss it right here?" She was all but sitting on his lap. "You tell me where those dear men are, and I'll give you a few addresses for some of the richest merchants in town."

Crawley grinned. "They're at my Inn, in the attic. The military did have them at Fort Pitt, but my close, personal friend Governor Pruitt wanted them where he could keep an eye on them."

"That's all we needed to know. Thank you, dear, sweet Crawley." Hilary smirked. "Now, close your eyes and open your lips, and you'll get a big surprise."

Crawley did so...and was surprised to feel Lady Hilary's fist in his face. She knocked him head over heels off the bench and onto the floor. Mackie laughed as he and Mr. Foley took hold of him. "Nice shot, Your Ladyship."

"Thank you. A woman does need to learn how to keep the wandering hands of overly amorous noblemen from getting too familiar." She went right up to Crowley. "You, sir, are going to take us to the Inn. You will free Mr. Byrnes and the others whom you have imprisoned there."

Crawley gulped. "What about me? I could still tell Pruitt about this."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, you could." A light went on in her eyes. "But you can't if you come with us."

Mackie and Mr. Foley joined her. "Everything's settled here, Liz. Most of the guards were either tied up or locked in the manager's office and parlor room."

Elizabeth nodded. "Mr. Foley, take Mr. Crawley to the manager's office with his men." Mr. Foley did so, taking Crawley by his arm, ignoring his angry protests. She shook her head and made her way to the stage. The remaining guests and staff members were talking amongst themselves. Lester was knocked over the couch by the two women, who didn't like where he put his hands. "Excuse me!"

Maple slammed down on the pianoforte, getting everyone's attention. "QUIET! SLILENCIEUX!" The entire group immediately shut up and stared at her and Elizabeth.

"Thank you, Maple." Elizabeth addressed the crowd. "I know the last thing most of you were expecting was to be under attack at this time of night. Rest assured, this is not business as usual at the Monongahela Inn. We're really just a little place off the road, where people can rest their feet for a while and enjoy a romance or an adventure or a little music before they venture forth into the world again. We want to help you forget your troubles, not create more."

Maple joined her. "But there are people, bad people, who want to take the Inn for themselves. They say we should not be allowed to make travelers happy. The Governor, he says we are no better than dirt under his toenails. We should not be able to work for ourselves."

Hilary stood next to them. "It doesn't matter what part of society you're from, if you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, or no spoon at all. You can still be a part of a colony." She smiled at the other women. "And a family."

Mackie went to Hilary. "And that's what matters in the end. We're all family. No matter what we look like, or where we were from originally, or how old or young we are."

Mr. Eldridge patted Mackie's shoulder. "After all, it's always nice to have someone to count on when the pickle chips fall down."

Gertrude joined them with Lester, Eugenia, and Mr. Foley. "And someone to tell your troubles to."

Elizabeth turned to the remaining guests. "Two members of our family, Scott Sherwood and Lord Jeffrey Singer, are in the hands of Captain Pavla DeVile, the most notorious pirate on the Monongahela and the Allegheny, and there are others who are prisoners at the Weeping Joker Inn. Will you all stand with us and fight for our friends...our family...our very lives? Who's with us?"

The ten or so people who remained let out loud cheers. They shook everyone's hands, even Hilary's, and shook their fists happily as the staff made their way off the stage and into the crowd. Elizabeth gathered everyone as close as she could. "All right. We all need to work as a team if we're going to stop Pruitt and rescue our friends." She looked at Hilary with a small smile. "And our lovers." Hilary nodded, her smile knowing.

"How are we gonna get into the Weeping Joker Inn?" Mackie looked nervous. "Crawley could tell the staff there what we're doing, and they could call the cops."

Gertrude saw Mr. Eldridge trying on a heavy red coat with fancy braiding. "Where did you get that?"

"From one of the nice officers we put in the parlor room. They weren't using it, so I thought I might look better in it."

Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "That's it!" She nodded at the coat. "Why don't we all...borrow...their coats? We'll dress as soldiers."

"Oui!" Maple grinned. "And they will just think we are Pruitt's men. They will not suspect anything!"

"I refuse to be costumed as a mere enlisted man." Hilary took a fancy plumed tri-corn hat off a chair on the stage. "I'm not a simple, workaday officer. I am a _general_!"

"Oui," Maple muttered to Eugenia, "a general pain in the derriere." Eugenia giggled.

Hilary glared at them. "What was that?"

Eugenia and Maple tried to look innocent. "Oh, nothing," Maple said quickly.

"I just hope Mr. Comstock is all right," Eugenia added. "He did ride to Fort Pitt all alone."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be fine, Eugenia." Elizabeth didn't look as confident as she sounded.

 **The Road to Fort Pitt, Shortly After Midnight**

Victor galloped down the road as fast as he could push his steed. He had to get to Fort Pitt. His influence there could be of considerable use in aiding the others. _As long as I keep the Crimson Blade out of my confession somehow. I promised Maple I wouldn't allow harm to come to her or Sherwood, and I intend to keep that promise._ Victor frowned. _Even if Sherwood does somehow always seem to gain the upper hand with the women. He has that silver tongue and Irish charm._

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't heed the sounds of more hooves coming towards him. Were the woods always so dark? It was if all the light in the colony had been snuffed out by some unseen hand. The road was barely visible two inches in front of his face.

Suddenly, the horse reared, nearly throwing him off. Three men in red uniforms blocked the road. Three more surrounded him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Victor Comstock, you're under arrest, by order of the governor of this colony."

"Under arrest? Why? I've committed no felony."

"The governor says you've been passing information to the British about plans for General Washington's first attack."

"That's absurd! I'm an innkeeper from Pittsburgh Village out on an errand."

"At this hour of the night?" One of the soldiers reached for his horse. Victor hit him in the chin and tried to ride on, but two more men appeared. One grabbed his horse. Two more took hold of his legs and dragged him off his saddle.

Victor struggled angrily. "When I put in my report with Fort Pitt, you can rest assured that I'll complain heavily about the quality of security on the roads going out of town!"

Another man clamped a hand over Victor's mouth. "I forgot, the boss lady said he can talk up a storm when he gets going." He smirked as they dragged the tall man away. "Take him to the Ursula Gothel. Our boss and our governor are both really interested in that information he's been passin'."


	25. Chapter 24

**The Hold of the Ursula Gothel, Very Early the Next Morning**

Scott Sherwood and Lord Jeffrey Singer looked up from the crates they sat on as the door opened. They both leaped to their feet when they saw two of the pirates throw Victor Comstock into the room. "We have another friend to visit you," Pavla DeVile sneered. "Perhaps you'll be more amused by his constant chatter about the Patriots and the colonies than I am."

"Victor!" Jeff got there first. "Are you all right?" Victor's eyes fluttered. He had a split lip and a bloody nose. Jeff put his handkerchief to Victor's face, trying to stop the bleeding. He looked up at Pavla, gritting his teeth in anger. "What did you do to him? If you've done any permanent damage..."

"We did have to beat him a little to keep him in line. He kept trying to get away." She gave them her sly smirk. "Probably to return to your stupid little inn."

"It's not stupid!" Scott glared at her. "It's a good place, where people can pull off the road and get a hot meal and enjoy themselves with fine entertainment. It's...it's a home away from home!"

"You have no place to talk, Herr Sherwood." She stroked his chin. "My lover Cribby and I just negotiated with my richest and most valuable employer for your sorry hide."

"I won't be bought and sold like a piece of meat!" Scott leaped at her, but her men forced him back.

"You will not try to harm me, Crimson Blade. Not if you want Comstock and Singer to embrace their dear women again."

Scott growled and tried to get at Pavla. Her men held him back. "If you get within five millimeters of any of the staff from the inn, especially Elizabeth, I'll..."

Pavla pointed her gun at his neck "Do what? Harm me? A woman? I can see you're no gentleman. You're just an Irish ruffian, barely worth the money the Governor paid for you."

Victor's eyes flicked towards Pavla's. "That so-called ruffian," he snapped, "has more nobility in his soul than you could dream of in all your years of existence on this planet, Captain DeVile."

Pavla's men finally shoved Scott so hard, he nearly fell over the crates. "Pruitt will be coming for him at dawn. As for the two of you," she nodded at Jeff and Victor, "you'll be taken to Boston. There are officers in the British army who would love to find out what Johnathan Arnold and his contact found out about the their plans for Lexington and Concord."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "You know you'll never get us to talk."

She pulled out a large gold pendant. "Hypnosis can be very useful. It certainly worked on you in Boston a few months ago."

This time, it was Jeff who leaped at her. "Don't you try that trick on him again!" Two of the men shoved him back towards Victor.

"I didn't appreciate it the first time," Victor added. "There are things about my time in Boston and the night I returned I still can't recall. I prefer my mind to belong to me alone, not manipulated by a second or third party."

"Very well." She nodded at her men. Jeff and Victor were bound together, their wrists held in manacles. Scott was chained to the wall, his back pulled into the most uncomfortable position possible. "If any of you try escaping, my men will be on you as fast as a dog can bite at its fleas." Scott's angry cursing was drowned out by Pavla's laughter.

 **The Lobby of the Weeping Joker Inn, Shortly Before Daybreak**

The man sitting at the front desk of the Weeping Joker Inn had to blink twice when his boss came in, with a line of the most rag-tag soldiers he'd ever seen in his life. Maybe it was just that it was early. One fellow with white hair seemed a little too...seasoned...to be a guard. Another was short and plump. A third was small and slender, and he had to admit, rather pretty, for a man.

What he assumed to be the head of the guards very nearly shoved Crawley into the room. He was also small for what appeared to be a general, with chestnut hair pulled back in a thick queue and haughty brown eyes. He looked like an arrogant ass. He gave orders to everyone within firing range. "You!" he said in an oddly high voice for a man. "What are you doing, standing here at this hour of the morning? Sleeping on the job! You should be clapped in irons!"

What the man didn't see was the general pointing a knife at Crawley's back. "Fitzgerald," he gasped, "I need you to bring me the key to the third floor."

Fitzgerald looked surprised. "The keys? What about those criminals up there? The ones who are supposed to be very dangerous?"

Crawley gulped as the general pushed the blade further. "For heavens sake, Fitzgerald, do as I say!"

"All right, all right." He pulled out a box, muttering about uppity military officers. "Here." He handed Crawley a set of spindly copper keys.

"Thank you, Fitzgerald." Crawley quickly shoved the keys in his pocket.

"You'll be awarded a commendation for this, my good fellow," the general added, with a flourish that sounded a little too put-on. "We've been after these men for months. We're going to take them back to Fort Pitt for questioning and certain excruciatingly tortures that will draw the truth from their veins like a sword draws the first blood. Or have I said too much?"

"Hilary," muttered the first officer, a small, round fellow with a thick gray mustache, "don't overdo it. We want this guy to believe you're a British general, not Lady Macbeth!"

"Can't I be both?"

They followed Crawley upstairs, past barely-awake guests, to the third floor. Crawley stopped at the last door in the hallway. "All of you stand back. What you'll see is all too shocking." He seemed to take a tortuously long time with getting the door open.

C.J looked up when they entered. Several men lay in beds along a large room. C.J was playing cards with a few more. He frowned. "What are you doing here? I thought we weren't going to be moved to Fort Pitt until next week."

"Plans have changed." Hilary grabbed C.J's arm as roughly as she could manage. "This one appears to be a likely troublemaker. We'll make him an example to the rest of those loathsome degenerates."

C.J squinted at her as well as hie could, considering how tired he was. "Hilary?"

"Shhh!" She shook her head. "The other guests may hear us."

Elizabeth turned her bayonet on Crawley. His eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

The others were already filing out. Elizabeth glared at him. "You're not going anywhere, mister. At least, not until after we rescue our friends. We don't need you telling Pruitt that the Crimson Blade's men are loose."

Hilary nodded. "I agree. We'll let him cool his heels here for a while."

"That should teach him to try to take an inn that isn't his!" Mr. Eldridge added.

"You can't do this to me!" Crawley wailed. "I own this inn! I'm in charge!"

"Oh, I think they'll live without you for a few hours." Elizabeth was the last person out. "At least until we can tell the police and the military that you were involved with a British spy ring."

"I'll call my lawyer! I'll sue! You'll be taken to courts and raked until you bleed! You..." Elizabeth shut the door and locked it before they could hear the rest of his tirade.

Fitzgerald looked up as they trooped downstairs. "Mr. Fitzgerald!" The man leaped out from behind the desk and stood erect next to Hilary. "You must not tell anyone we were here. We're under strict orders from George Washington himself to keep this all very secret." She tried to resist her smirk. "Oh, and Mr. Crawley said he had some very important work that he needed to do upstairs. You are to see that he's not disturbed for the rest of the day."

"Yes sir!" Fitzgerald nearly knocked himself over saluting her.

C.J grinned as he and the others followed Hilary out. "You're so good at this, you're scaring me. Since when did all of you join the British Army?"

Elizabeth was on his other side. "Since Pavla DeVile captured Scott and Jeff. We have to get to her ship! She's going to sell Scott to Pruitt and then sail off to Boston with Jeff!"

C.J's eyes widened. "What? How did Pavla get both of them?"

Hilary lead them towards a large, slightly rickety carriage. "We're not sure how she got her foul, nauseatingly slender hands on Scott. It's likely she appeared after we did a 52-hour show on drugged tea. Scott would have been too tired to defend himself." She sighed. "Jeff, as usual, jumped headfirst into a trap to ensnare his person before he considered the fact that Pablum would never willingly give up the chance to bleed the Singer name dry."

Maple gazed up at the sky, which was growing lighter and lighter by the minute. "We must get to the Ursula Gothel! Mr. Menlow said that Scott would be sold to Pruitt at first light! The sun is almost up now!"

Elizabeth gathered them around her. "All right. Everyone in costume will change out of them while we're in the carriage. Mr. Eldridge and Gertrude, you'll meet Gus Kahana at his fruit stand in the marketplace. He'll take you to Fort Pitt to tell the military what's going on and see if you can get their help. Tell them to come to Dock 16 at the Pittsburgh Village Waterfront."

Mr. Eldridge saluted her. "You need only ask."

Elizabeth stared at him. "I'm asking."

Gertrude shook her head. "Come along, Tom. I think they're trying to clear us old folks out in time for the big showdown." She turned to the others. "I wish you all good luck. You're...well, you're the children I never had. Even you, Hilary. Stay safe, and bring the boys home in at least one piece."

Hilary made a face. "If Jeff's done anything with that nautical tramp of a semi-wife of his, he may be in a few more pieces than he'd like."

C.J shook his head. "What about the rest of us?"

"We're going to the Ursula Gothel." Maple poked her head out of the carriage. She wore a low-cut, bright red blouse trimmed with ruffles that showed off every bit of her well-known curves. "And we're all going to go in uniform." She tossed C.J a slightly looser, less ruffly red shirt.

Elizabeth nodded, her grin ear-to-ear. "If Pruitt wants Crimson Blades, then that's what he's going to get!"

 **The Hold of the Ursula Gothel, Shortly After**

Scott was still cursing and still trying to free himself of his bonds. "Haven't you run out of cerulean vocabulary words yet, Sherwood?" Victor complained. "They're not aiding us in escaping this foul prison."

"Well, they're making ME feel a lot better!"

Jeff groaned. "Stop it, you two. This is hardly the time to fight."

Scott winced as his back tweaked. "I'm not sure I could take Victor in a fight, anyway. My eye was swollen for two days after he socked me."

"You stole my job and the woman I was courting while I was doing dangerous undercover work in Boston!" Victor hollered at the top of his normally refined lungs. "What was I supposed to do?"

Scott looked at the floor. "I deserved that hit. I forged the letter because I thought the inn would make a perfect temporary headquarters for the Crimson Blade, and I would get to flirt with a pretty writer. After the Crimson Blade made some good money, he'd run out with no one the wiser." He finally looked up at Victor and Jeff. "I never expected to fall in love with Elizabeth or find a real home."

Victor's eyes clearly said he didn't believe him. "Do you mean that, Sherwood? Almost everything out of your mouth is an untruth."

Scott stared hard at the tall innkeeper. "Victor, you have a good job that pays you enough to get by and challenges your mind. You have two women who adore you. You're brilliant, you're clever, and you have a hell of an uppercut. You're a war hero before the colonies have even gone to war!" He shifted in his bonds. "I'm an outlaw. A criminal. A huckster. That's all I ever will be. I'm no hero. I've done things that make me no better than Pavla and those apes she calls a crew."

Victor shook his head. "When I returned to the Inn, I would have said I completely adhered to that last statement." He turned to Scott as well as he could. "And yet, it was you who solved those codes the night I returned. You were the one who uncovered Abernathy and Brumpton's treachery." Victor gave him that little smile. "A man can appear to be a black-hearted rogue on the outside, yet have a warrior's heart on the inside."

Jeff tried to face Victor, at least as well as he could. "Victor, while we're all baring our souls, I think it's time I bared mine. I wasn't only the contact for you." He sighed. "I worked with Scott and the other members of the Crimson Blades before I came to Boston the second time."

Victor frowned. "You, Jeff? But why? You're a peer of the realm and an aristocrat."

"He caught Maple, C.J, and me one night when we were planning to rob several prominent local businesses with ties to Pruitt," Scott explained. "Instead of turning us in, we convinced him he could be more helpful as a kind of scout. He found out, through his society connections, which local rich people were on the roads and easy targets and which of Pruitt's businesses we would be able to rob. Hilary did the same thing for us when he went to Boston."

Jeff groaned. "Scott, I'm sorry about Hilary. I had to tell her. You know Hilary. It's not easy to keep a secret from her. Especially considering I was still her husband at the time."

Scott sighed. "Yeah, I know that all too well."

Victor tugged at his bonds. "I'm glad we got all this off our chests. Jeff's correct that we'll have to work together to escape this predicament." He looked out the one window. "Pavla will return at any moment. It's very nearly morning." He tried to tug at the cuffs that held his wrists. "Jeff, if we pull together, we may be able to stand long enough to retrieve the keys from the peg outside."

"Well, we could try."

Scott looked up as voices were heard on the staircase. "And hurry, you two! I think they're coming!" He continued to yank his heavy chains as hard as he possibly could.

Victor and Jeff stood at the same time...but they did it too quickly. They nearly ended up on the floor! "Whoa!" Jeff winced as his face ended up against the wall. "Ow. That hurt."

"Careful!" Victor tried to stand straighter. "We will need to move as one. Follow my count. One, and two, and..."

The footsteps became louder as the pair two-stepped their way over to the door. Victor was just trying to pull his hands free of the chains when the door was flung open. Victor and Jeff were sent flying into the floor next to Scott.

The three men all gazed up with murder in their eyes as Governor Pruitt slid his oily way into the hold, followed by Pavla and several of her men. "Well, well. I thought I left the English music hall acts back at that silly little inn of yours. How very amusing. Did you set this bit of slapstick up for our entertainment, or do you have a reason for behaving like two comics in a bad stage routine?"

Scott ignored how the chains cut into his back. He let out a nearly animal-like snarl. "Don't you touch them, you fiend! You're not fit to do a pratfall on the ground they fall on!"

Pruitt slithered over to Scott, grabbing him by what remained of his shirt collar. "My, my. Such language from a possession."

Victor's glare was nearly as cutting as Scott's. "Governor, you of all people should be aware that slavery is not legal under the laws of this colony. You have no moral right to buy or sell another human being."

"I'm also aware that, as governor of this colony, I make the laws." He shoved his cane against Scott's neck. "This man is an indentured servant. He owed me and my family thousands of dollars worth of debt." He smirked. "Sherwood, I know the marriage license you and the charming Lady Booth showed at the City Hall was false. I'm no fool. I'm the one who arranges the licenses." He smacked Scott across the face with his cane. Victor and Jeff both tried to jump at him, but the pirates pushed them back on the floor.

Scott raised his chin as nobly as he could manage. "Pruitt, do what you want with me, but leave Victor and Jeff out of this. Let them go back to the inn and their women. They have nothing to do with us."

"I think otherwise." Pavla stroked Jeff's cheek. He pulled his head away, his eyes full of barely repressed fury. "My husband here is the only one who knows information about the mystery men of Pittsburgh."

She moved her hand to Victor's cheek. He shot her his angriest look. "Jeffrey was the contact for Johnathan Arnold," she nodded at Scott, "and he worked for the Crimson Blade. Jeff thought he escaped me in Boston." She looked right into the younger man's eyes. "Oh, you assumed you were clever, husband, running out on me. Did you think I wouldn't follow you? I knew you'd run right to your dearly beloved Lady Booth."

Pruitt laughed. "Well, well. Looks like you've been busy, Lord Singer. I didn't think a shallow young imbecile like you had it in him to be in two places at once."

Jeff narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I'm a lot smarter than you give me credit for."

Pavla turned to her men. "Take Comstock to my quarters. There's some...information...that the British would love to get from him."

"I wouldn't tell you what you wanted to know in a million decades! Not if you performed every unspeakable act of torture ever devised on my person!"

Pavla laughed and swung the gold medallion that was on her neck. "I only need one."

Jeff let out a roar. "You'll both be sent to prison for this! When the others find out what you're doing..."

"The others." Pruitt gave them his throaty chuckle. "I'm assuming you mean your precious friends at the Monongahela Inn. You wouldn't happen to know which one of them owns the inn, do you? I was told one of the residents somehow managed to purchase it. I have a good chum who wishes to buy it."

Jeff shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Nor do I." Victor shrugged. "All of the staff and regular residents at the inn have been asking the same query. Whomever the person is, we owe them a debt of gratitude. They lowered the rents and made it possible for many of the residents to remain in their homes, regardless of their gender, race, or status."

"I think I can guess," Scott muttered to himself as two of Pavla's men removed his chains and yanked him to his feet. "I just hope they don't find out." Out loud, he said "I don't know either, Pruitt. Whomever they are, they haven't exactly spread it around."

"Nevertheless, we'll find out. Even as we speak, my friend and several of my men have been dispatched to make sure none of your beloved staff attempt to come to your rescue."

Scott tried to lunge for Pruitt, but Pavla's men held him back. "If you've harmed any of them, I'll..."

"Do what? I'm scarcely frightened of a piece of property." His smirk grew wider. "Oh, yes. Speaking of property, I asked the men to bring me my lovely little Elizabeth Roberts. I have missed her so. Such an attractive, intelligent girl. She'll be a great asset to my holdings."

Pruitt got right in Scott's face. "I spent the month I languished in that prison cell considering all the wonderful games I could play with that sweet, innocent child in bed on our wedding night. It would be quite delightful to take her...assets...and make them my own."

"DON'T YOU LAY A FINGER ON HER, YOU SLIMY BASTARD!" Scott broke free of the two men who held him, his face the same color crimson as his shirt. He managed to slam Pruitt in the chin with a hard right before five of Pavla's men leaped onto him. He flailed and writhed like a bass in a net, but there were too many of them.

Victor's eyes blazed. "Sherwood is utterly accurate in his assessment of your character, Pruitt," he snarled. "You're an inhuman, cold-hearted monster! You don't love Elizabeth. You couldn't. You wouldn't know how to love anything that can't be bought or sold."

"You have no choice in the matter anymore, any of you." Pruitt rubbed his chin. "Tie up Sherwood and bring him to my ship." He nodded at Pavla. "Captain, when you sell the other two to the British, remember, I get a share of the profits."

"No!" Scott screamed. "I'll never be a slave!" Scott's protests were finally muffled by a pirate winding a heavy rag around tightly in his mouth. Another pirate wrapped chains around his wrists and arms, yanking them hard behind his back. Two of the pirates dragged him out, struggling angrily all the way.

Pavla helped the remaining men remove Victor's chains. "Chain Lord Singer to the wall, where Sherwood was. Perhaps a few more hours in the hold will cool that aristocratic temper of his."

Victor tried to block Jeff. "I won't permit such an atrocity. He's a civilian! He was merely my contact. He knew nothing about my work."

Pavla took Victor roughly by his cravat. "I wouldn't concern yourself with him, Johnathan Arnold. I'd be more worried about what I intend to do to you." Jeff watched helplessly as Pavla and her first mate bound Victor's hands behind his back and almost literally threw him out of the hold.


	26. Chapter 25

**The Main Deck of the Ursula Gothel, Just After Daybreak**

No one noticed the group of ragtag figures in red and black make their way onto the ship. Most of the few men who were awake at this hour were either reading back copies of "The Military Gazette" or exchanging bad jokes about the queen, the elephant, and the ten bucks. Cribby lead them up the gangplank, shaking his head.

They gathered in a ragged circle in the shadows. "All right," said the small, slender figure with the chestnut hair peeking out from under the hood. "We'll split into three groups Hilary, you take Mackie, Eugenia, and Mr. Foley and search below-decks. C.J, Maple, and I will look up here. The rest of you, secure the main deck."

 **Below Decks, A Few Minutes Later**

"How did we end up with the dirty job?" Mackie grumbled as they headed downstairs. "Why can't we stay on the nice, safe, light deck?"

"Because my hus...ex-husband is down there," Hilary hissed, "and there's no way I'm leaving him here to rot in that filthy cell or be a plaything for that evil, two-faced harlot of the Monongahela!"

Eugenia gulped. "It is kind of scary down here, isn't it?" She looked around the dark, damp rooms. "I feel so sorry for His Lordship. He must be scared to death, trapped all alone in some nasty cell." Mr. Foley shuddered at the thought and leaned closer to Eugenia.

Mackie nodded at the two guards pacing in front of Jeff's door. "How in the heck are we going to get rid of those guys?"

Hilary smirked and removed her hood. "Leave that to me." She went to one of the guards, removing her hood. "Hello there, handsome? How would you like to have a good time?"

The pirate leered at her. "Sure, babe. Why not? You ain't that bad."

"Get rid of your friend and meet me on the main deck in five minutes."

She went to the other one. He grinned. "Well, hello there. Ain't you all kindsa cute?"

She winced at the breath that must have had a pickle and onion sandwich for a midnight snack, but all she said was "Meet me on the deck in five minutes. Get rid of your friend."

The two men obeyed her to the letter. She grabbed the ring of keys from the pocket of one of them as they knocked each other out. "Nice work, Hilary," Mackie said with a grin as he, Eugenia, and Mr. Foley joined her.

"Some of my best acting." She nudged one with the toe of the black boots she'd snitched from the British general. "They were both uglier than a pair of wart-nosed sea warlocks."

"What in the..." The last thing Lord Jeffrey Singer expected to see at that moment was his wi...ex-wife, wearing a ruffled red blouse and a pair of fairly tight black breeches, storming into the room. She was followed by three smaller characters in similar outfits, wearing hoods. "Hilary? What in the..."

"Pumpkin!" She went to his side. "What have they done with you? If that gold-digging river tramp has harmed you in any way, I will send her to the deepest end of the Monongahela!"

Jeff just grinned as she freed him from the wall. "Hilary, you have no idea how happy I am to see you right now." He eyed the satiny black breeches. "Especially dressed like that. Where did you get that outfit?"

"Borrowed the breeches from a British general. The blouse is a loan from Maple."

"Umm." Jeff eyed her trim rear encased neatly in the breeches. "Red and black always did suit you."

Mackie pulled off his hood. "Before you two start getting mushy on us, Jeff, where's Scott? Have you seen him?"

Hilary helped Jeff to his feet. He rubbed his wrists, trying to get some circulation back in them. "Oh, I saw him, all right. Pruitt picked him up at least an hour ago. Dragged him off almost literally kicking and screaming." Jeff's eyes narrowed. "And with good reason. Apparently, Pruitt bought Scott and intends to use him for slave labor. I think this is Pruitt's way of getting back at Scott for cracking his codes and trying to rob him blind."

"Poor Mr. Sherwood!" wailed Eugenia. "He's too nice to be a slave to that awful Governor Pruitt!"

Mr. Foley opened his mouth to agree, but Hilary got there first. "Let's get back upstairs. We have to find out where Pruitt took Scott." She gave Jeff a quirky little grin. "And who would be better to know the answer than the captain of this ship?"


	27. Chapter 26

(I'd like to thank Linda Young for the inspiration for Hilary's "traitorous trollop" line used in the duel sequence.) 

**Main Deck, At that Same Moment**

The trio in black and red crept along the wall, trying to stay out of sight as the morning sun sent long, lazy shadows across the chestnut wood of the main deck. Elizabeth groaned. "I wish that man on the deck was able to give us more information besides 'The boss lady has the tall guy in her room.' He could mean Jeff or Victor."

"I hope it's not Jeff," Maple muttered. "Hilary will have fit if Pavla is trying funny ha-ha business on her homme."

"We'll get him out of there before Hilary knows."

C.J stopped the women at the door. "Shh! I hear voices."

All three leaned heavily against the thick door. Elizabeth grabbed a glass from a table on the other side of the hall. "Yes...yes, my dear Herr Comstock," Pavla purred. "Just watch the medallion. Keep your eyes on it."

"I...no! I won't!"

"Shh. Shh, Herr Comstock. Just keep your eyes on it. Lose yourself in it. Don't think, my dear, sweet Herr."

"I...please no..."

"Yes..." the voice purred... "now, don't you want to...kiss me...you must obey me...

"I...oh dear god..."

"NO!" Maple tried to slam her shoulder into the door, but she only bounced off of it. "That...that witch is trying to put moves on Victor! It is assault with friendly weapon! We must get in there!"

C.J shook his head. "There's an easier way to open a door than dislocating your shoulder, Maple. Why don't you try doing what most people do?" He lifted a rug in front of the door, revealing a key. "Look for the extra house key."

They flung the door open to reveal Pavla leaning over Victor, who was tied to a chair. She was swinging a large gold medallion in his face with one hand and holding his head so that he was looking right at it with the other. Maple did not like the dazed look in his eyes. It was almost the same one he had the night he came back from Boston. She liked even less that Pavla was two steps from climbing into his lap.

"STOP! ARRET!" Maple held up her pistol. Pavla didn't have time to react before the gun went off, blasting the medallion across the room. C.J and Elizabeth went to untie Victor as Maple threw the pistol aside and yanked Pavla off his lap, shrieking French curse words at the top of her lungs. She shook Pavla's shoulders, and the two wrestled across the room, scratching at each other and yanking hair.

Pavla finally managed to get her hood off. "It is you!" She yanked Maple's hair harder. "You are the woman Crimson Blade. You are just as my men described you – a flame-haired bimbo with more...assets...than brains."

"You are one to talk! At least I do not throw myself at men who are not interested. You destroy Hilary and Jeff's marriage, and you hurt poor Victor, and why? All because you only care about yourself."

"That's called survival!" She reached for the gun, but C.J got it first.

"Oh no, lady." He slid it into his belt. "Don't get ideas."

Victor was rubbing his temples. "Elizabeth?" She and C.J helped him to his feet. He finally lowered his gaze to the two women on the floor. "Maple? What in the world..."

Maple glared at the woman pirate captain. "Pavla, where's Scott?"

Her smile was pure evil. "The male Crimson Blade is gone. My employer, Governor Pruitt, came earlier this morning and took him to his mansion. He won't be robbing coaches anymore, or anything else. It'll be hard labor in the salt mines for that Irish lout from now on!"

"Oh no!" Elizabeth wailed. "We're too late!"

Maple's eyes blazed. "You...you..." She jumped to her feet and pulled out her sword, trying to ignore the sneeze that rose to her nose, which hadn't quite recovered from that cold. "Enguarde, you...you...nasty traitre!"

"So that is how you want to play." Pavla sprang to her own feet, taking a sword from the wall. "You're no match for me, you overgrown French sea cow!"

"Oooh, they are fighting words!" Victor watched in surprise as the two women leaped and thrust at each other. Considering she still had to be feeling the effects of her recent illness, Maple was more than holding her own. They were leaping on Pavla's enormous four-poster bed and pushing aside chairs and tables.

C.J grabbed a vase Maple almost knocked over. "I think this duel is getting way too big for this room." He opened the door, letting the two women duel right out into the hall. He, Elizabeth, and Victor quickly followed.

It was pandemonium on-deck. The Crimson Blade's men were fighting with and chasing and knocking over and drinking with Pavla's crew. Maple and Pavla continued their fight around the men, ducking and slashing and knocking into rigging.

Victor didn't like how Maple was showing signs of wear. Her men cheered her on, but her cheeks were red, and she was slowing down just a bit. Her movements no longer matched Pavla's. He started towards her, but one of the pirates held a knife to his throat. Another did the same to C.J.

"Victor!" Maple's last thrust was just a fraction of a second too late. Pavla slashed hard at her right arm. Maple screamed and dropped her sword, clutching the heavy red line that created a pool of darker red on her bright blouse.

"Maple!" Victor struggled hard, his arms and legs flailing. "Release her! She'll need medical attention for that wound!"

Pavla laughed and shoved Maple's sword into the wall. "There now, you see? You are not as good as you are thinking you are," her smile was nasty, "Crimson Blade." She turned to her crew. "Bind the Crimson Blade and feed her to the creatures in the river. It will be most amusing to witness." She turned her sword on Victor. "Especially for her sweetheart."

Victor's heart lurched as he watched two pirates wrap rope roughly around Maple's bleeding arms and wrists. "Please, let her go free! You're causing grievous harm to her!"

"That's the idea, Herr Comstock." She pointed her sword at Maple's chest, shoving her backwards towards a thick board that jutted out over the river. "I want to cause great harm to her, and her partner, and their young friend." She glared at Maple. "They were the reason I told the British about you, Comstock. They just had to ruin my wonderful ransom plan with Lady Booth! Them and your little Elizabeth."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "It was you who told the British about my identity. Why? What was in it for you?"

"Revenge, Herr Comstock. I was going to hold Lady Booth until I got what I wanted, what I've always wanted – a chance at a stage career. They tricked me, made me think I was talking to some producer. I tricked them in kind." She smirked and pushed at Maple with the sword. "I made some inquiries in Boston and here. Talked to a few officials who didn't mind trading some nights of...fun...for information." She laughed, turning to Victor. "Oh, yes, and your British accent was as fake as a clown's putty nose."

Victor looked rueful. "Acting was never my strong suit."

Maple watched him, wincing as she tried to work her arms free despite feeling woozy from the loss of blood. "Oh Victor..."

Pavla waved at Maple's chest with the sword. "I would not concern yourself with him. In another second, you will be six feet under, swimming with the fishes, and he will be back in my chambers, under my command. You'll never see your Herr Comstock again!"

"That's what you think!" Pavla let out a screech as a sword slashed into her brilliant yellow blouse. She turned on her heel to find herself face-to-sword with a furious Lady Hilary Booth. "You let Miss Martienne down from there this instant, you traitorous trollop!" Mackie, Eugenia, Jeff, and Mr. Foley ran in behind her.

Pavla winced, but she was smiling condescendingly. "Well, well. We meet again, Your Ladyship. I didn't think a pampered noblewoman like you knew what a sword was, much less how to use it. Aren't women like you usually taught things like needlework and how to manage a household?"

"I was never much good at needlework." She put out her sword. "I'm much better at fencing than I ever was with domestic chores." She thrust the sword into Pavla's face. "Engarde, you charlatan of a sea witch! I want you out of my life and my Jeffrey's!"

She lunged for Hilary. "So you think you're a fighter. How amusing. You'll be joining the Crimson Blade walking the plank when I'm through with you! Your dear Jeffrey will be coming to Boston with me." She smirked, circling Hilary. "Maybe I'll keep him after all. He is rather attractive. He might be a nice addition to my collection of men."

Jeff growled at her. "Not on your life! I'd never go with you!" Her men shoved him back into the crowd, grabbing hold of his arms.

Hilary glared at her. "You tell those hideous cretins of yours to get their hands off my Jeffrey, or I'll fill you so full of holes, you'll look like a pincushion at a seamstresses' convention!" She lunged hard for Pavla, driving her across the boat.

Pavla was shocked at how hard Hilary could hit. She flung herself into her thrusts and parries with abandon, jumping around the deck, even swinging on the rigging at one point. "Where have you learned all these moves?"

"I pay attention to those plays we perform, Pavla." She smirked as the two locked blades, looking straight into each others' eyes. "Perhaps if you paid more attention to acting in plays and less to acting in the bed of every British official from here to Boston, you'd learn a few new tricks yourself."

Jeff's eyes widened as Pavla ducked behind her, lunging for her back. "Hilary, watch out!"

"Thank you, Jeffrey dear." She ducked away, leaning one last thrust to stab Pavla lightly in the chest. "But I can take care of myself."

Pavla gasped and clutched her wounded chest. "But how...how did..."

"Skill, my dear captain. It's called 'skill.'" The Crimson Blade's men had already surrounded or wounded most of Pavla's crew. Hilary turned to address them. "Boys, free MY husband, Mr. Byrnes, and Mr. Comstock, then get Miss Martienne off the plank." She smirked at Pavla. "There's someone else who has far more need for a swim this morning."

Pavla was clutching her chest. "I...I will not go..."

"By all means." Hilary and Jeff took either of her arms as Victor and Mackie helped Maple off the plank. Hilary grinned in her face. "Let us help you."

Jeff's smile was even more evil. "We'd be glad to." They both lifted Pavla off her feet and carried her over to the plank.

"No! Stop!" Pavla wheezed. "Let me go! The water is too cold for swimming!"

"You didn't seem to have any problems with shoving Miss Martienne into the drink a few minutes ago." Hilary got onto the plank and pushed at her chest with her sword. "Besides," she hissed, "you're cold-blooded. You won't even feel it. There's already ice in your veins." She finally gave Pavla a shove. The slender captain tripped over her feet, falling head over heels into the Monongahela with a noisy screech.

Cribby was looking over the edge. "I guess I'd better retrieve my woman." He chuckled. "Nice work, kids. I'll take her to a hospital to have that wound looked at." He held up a sheath of papers. "Look what I have here. Your marriage contract." He tore it to bits and threw it in the river. "Oh dear. I see to have misplaced it." He chuckled. "You're a free man, Singer, and a lucky one. That's one hell of a woman you have there!"

Jeff put his arm around Hilary's waist. "I've known that for years."

Victor attended to Maple's bleeding arm near the mast. He ripped off his shirt sleeves and wrapped them around the cut. "This isn't a real tourniquet, but it'll have to suffice until we can get you genuine medical attention. I'm afraid I'm no doctor."

Maple smiled. "Merci, Monsieur. You may not be doctor, but you are a good man and a good innkeeper."

"Thank you." He took her good hand and gazed into her eyes. "Maple...I find it very difficult to discuss my romantic feelings with women, or with anyone, really. I lack Sherwood's silver tongue when it comes to charming the opposite sex. I'm not wealthy. I'm the educated head of a small, poor village inn. I'm not a peer of the realm or a landowner. I can't offer you the extravagant lifestyle other men could give you. But I can offer you my heart. You're an incredible woman, Maple Martienne. I've never met anyone like you. You're beautiful and courageous and strong-willed and intelligent. Maple, what I'm trying to say is..."

"Victor, shush." Maple put a finger on his lips, but she was smiling. "I love you, too."

Jeff and Hilary watched them as they kissed deeply. "Hilary," Jeff smiled, "you know I'm free now."

"Yes, I'm aware of that." She made a face. "I'm also aware that, the moment my back is turned, you'll jump headlong into another woman's arms."

"You've had your share of men too, you know. Including Scott Sherwood."

"The marriage was faked, Pumpkin! I did it to make you jealous!" She leaned into him. "I regret it now. Scott was beyond drunk the night he suggested it. I took advantage of him because I wanted to hurt you, the way you hurt me."

"I never meant to hurt you, Mittens! If I'd known the whole marriage to Pavla would turn out as badly as it did, I never would have done it! I wouldn't hurt you for the world." He smiled a little. "Unless we're having one of our little tiffs."

She looked up at him. "Jeff, if we get married again, this time, it'll be for real. I want a real wedding, with a bridal gown and a reception and Eugenia playing 'Here Comes the Bride.' There's only so much money you can pour into the Mexican colonies."

Jeff nodded. "For once, I agree. No more games. I want you all to myself, for good. Forever."

"Oh Jeffrey, darling! You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that!" She threw herself so hard into Jeff's arms, they ended up on the deck next to Maple and Victor.

Eugenia and Mr. Foley had watched them, blushing. "Well, it's certainly getting romantic around here, isn't it, Foley?" She smiled at him. "You know, you mean a great deal to me, too."

Foley nodded. He pulled a cloth rose he'd taken from Captain DeVile's cabin from his pocket and handed it to Eugenia. It was a little wrinkled, but it still looked pretty. "Oh Foley, how sweet of you! It's still lovely, even if it doesn't smell!"

Eugenia took his hand. "I was...well, I guess since everyone else is doing it, I might as well do it, too. I've been considering...asking if you'd like to be engaged with me to be married." Foley was really blushing now. "Our lives hinge on your response."

Mackie ducked between the two of them just as Foley opened his mouth. "Have either of you seen Elizabeth?"

Eugenia considered it. "No, I haven't. Not since Maple was fighting with that awful Captain DeVile."

Maple and Victor joined them. Victor frowned. "Pavla told us that Pruitt took Scott to the Governor's Mansion."

Mackie looked worried. "You don't think Liz would have gone after Scotty on her own?"

The sound of horses' hooves on the road that ran alongside the docks gave them their answer. A familiar diminutive, slender figure was flying down the road in the carriage that brought them there, her sweet face filled with determination.

C.J hurried over to them. "Elizabeth's gone. I've looked all over for her."

"She just left." Victor frowned. "I concede that we need to develop a strategy for freeing Sherwood. However, I believe Elizabeth is behaving rashly in attempting to rescue him without aid."

Maple sighed. "She's in love, Victor. She is not thinking with her whole mind."

Victor looked a little disappointed. Maple gave him a squeeze. He turned to her. "I've heard rumors that this is a very fast ship."

Maple nodded. "They say it is fastest ship on the rivers. But what does..."

C.J grinned. "You know, I've always wanted to learn how to run a pirate ship."

"You catch on quickly, Byrnes. We'll need quick wit and faster reflexes if we're going to be able to carry out my plan."

Mackie gulped. "Your plan?"

Victor turned to the crew behind him. He had everyone's full attention...except for Hilary and Jeff, who were too busy kissing each other to pay him much mind. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to need the help of anyone who is an experienced sailor. We're taking over the Ursula Gothel and will be sailing her to the Governor's Mansion. He'll be expecting Captain DeVile and her band of murderous cutthroats. What he'll get," his smile was a more wicked version of his little-boy smile, "will be the staff of the Monongahela Inn."


	28. Chapter 27

**The Governor's Mansion, an Hour Later**

Elizabeth shivered as she walked through the rooms. The quiet in the Governor's Mansion seemed almost unearthly this early in the morning. Her footsteps echoed on polished wooden floors. _Where is he?_ She couldn't find Scott or Pruitt anywhere. She ducked into corners or alcoves, avoiding the guards stationed at the doors.

She finally made her way into the ballroom. It was dark and deserted in the soft morning sunlight. Strange shadows played games with the breezes that blew through the doors. All of the elegant trappings of the night of the ball had been replaced with white sheets and coverings that ruffled in the breeze.

That was when she heard his voice. "Why, hello there, Miss Roberts. I knew you'd come." He slid out of the shadows, resplendent in his dark green and gold suit of the latest fashion and cut.

Elizabeth pulled out the sword she'd filched from one of Pavla's men. "Where's Scott?"

Pruitt oozed his greasy way over to her. "How droll. Now, Miss Roberts, why don't you put down that little toy, and we can discuss this like civilized people?"

Elizabeth held the sword as close to his chest as she could manage. "Not until I see Scott Sherwood."

"Such fire in your soul! You have amazing spirit, my pretty one. You'll be wonderful in our bed on our wedding night." He reached out to stroke her chestnut hair.

She shoved his hand aside. "I'd never marry you in a million years!" She lunged at him, but he easily ducked away.

"I suppose it's your precious ne-er-do-well that you'd rather have in your bed."

She glared at him. "Whom I choose to love is none of your affair, Governor."

"Oh, but it is." His grin turned feral. "Your beloved knave belongs to me now. I own him. I'm already negotiating with salt mines in Massachusetts that could use a strong, hardy back like his. It's what a criminal like him is good for."

"He's not a criminal!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Well, all right, he is, but still, he doesn't deserve this! He's sweet and funny and loyal. He cracked at least two codes that brought down spy rings and saved my life twice. Even when I ignored him, even when I was upset with him over...over him embezzling that money, he stayed by my side."

"How sickening." He circled her. "How much do you know about him?"

Elizabeth stepped away from him. "Enough."

"Do you?" He chuckled. "But why doesn't he tell you himself?" He turned to two of the guards who had followed him into the room. "Gentlemen, bring my new personal servant to speak to my bride-to-be. I think she'll find what he has to say quite interesting."

Elizabeth watched in horror as the men dragged a ragged figure into the room, struggling wildly. Almost his entire upper torso was bound with heavy chains. His wrists were in thick manacles. A chain had been looped around his neck. They shoved him him forward hard. Too hard. He toppled to his hands and knees between her and Pruitt.

"Scott!" Elizabeth dropped to his side. His red shirt and black trousers were in tatters. She didn't like the look of the bruises on his arms and shoulders. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

"Not them. The bruises were from Pavla's boys earlier." He put a hand on her cheek. "Lass, ye a sight for sore eyes." He frowned. "But I wish ye hadn't come. I don't want you getting hurt."

She took his hand. "Maybe you're not the only one who can take care of themselves."

"Oh Liz," Scott barely breathed. "I love ye so! I've loved you from the moment I first saw you on the road. I'd never seen a woman who stood up to me like that."

Elizabeth nodded. "That was you who tried to rob my carriage when I first came here. I thought I knew that watch from somewhere." She grinned. "Not to mention, you said 'Oh, would you look at the time?' to me then, too. You really need to use that line less often." Her smile fell as she recalled another bit of information. "Did you really come to the inn because of me? Was it true, what you said about being in Boston and the letter?"

"I was in Boston on...other business, but yes, I did want to get to know you better. Victor's letter gave me the chance I'd been waiting for." His own affable grin fell. "But I lost that chance through my own duplicity. After the day I was banished to the kitchen, you turned into a block of ice, and I couldn't get through to you...and then Victor came home, and you seemed to care far more about him than me. I thought I'd never hold you again, never look into your eyes, never..." he leaned over her... "kiss you.."

Her lips were about to meet his when a set of oily, well-manicured fingers yanked her away. Pruitt narrowed his eyes. "This treacle is making me ill." He yanked roughly on the chain around Scott's neck, tightening it. "Why don't you really tell her the truth, Sherwood?" He yanked it again, whipping Scott's head back. "Or should I say, O'Rourke? Tell her who you really are."

Pruitt let Scott's head go long enough for him to look into her gentle brown eyes. "Lass...Sherwood isn't my real name. It's the name I took when I joined a pirate ship as a boy. I thought it sounded more like a the name of a dashing sea rover than O'Rourke."

He closed his eyes. "I'm the son of a con-man from Ireland who came to the colonies to try to start over." He frowned. "But I turned out no better than he did. I was a pirate for years, working for corrupt men like Pruitt to deliver arms and other illegal items to the British army and wealthy nobles in the colonies. At least," he looked over his shoulder at Pruitt with a glare, "until I gave some of the guns Pruitt intended for the British army to a group of laborers who were being exploited."

"It was a simple job." Pruitt snapped the chain around his neck again, making Scott gasp and try to tug at the links. "You shouldn't have tried to double-cross me, boy. Those guns cost me over nearly fifty thousand dollars."

"I would have paid you back, someday." His look at Pruitt was murderous. "Instead, you went to Nantucket, murdered my parents, and burned their home to the ground!"

"I don't like being double-crossed by a lowly mercenary." He tugged at the chain, thrusting Scott's head backwards. "It was so easy to claim your father's land and fishing business for taxes. He already owed me money from some my family's dealings in England. After they couldn't pay, I graciously allowed them to work off the debt as my servants."

Scott tried to wriggle in Pruitt's grasp. "You mean you forced them to! You stole their money and lands, the things that were rightfully theirs and mine! You were going to sell Father and me to the salt mines and Mum to the factories in Boston."

Pruitt pulled at the chain, bringing Scott back up his knees. He held him down with his other hand. "I like you on your knees, O'Rourke. Quiet and subservient, as you should be. You should have never defied me. A twenty year-old Irish whelp, trying to defeat an old English hand. You really thought you'd get the better of that duel."

"I would have, too, if you didn't knock over the lamp and start that fire." Scott's fists were clenched in rage. "You locked Father and Mum in the parlor and let them burn to death! If Aunt Agatha hadn't helped me out, I would have burned with them."

"Damn that foolish old woman. I knew I should have taken care of her." He tore the remains of the sleeve of Scott's red shirt, revealing a long, heavy white burn mark on his shoulder. "You do still have it. I should have gotten closer with that wick. I might have rid myself of your presence then and there."

Elizabeth's horrified eyes flicked up to Pruitt. "You _are_ a monster." Her fingers reached for her sword. "You murdered two people in cold blood and almost killed two more, and over what? Money? A debt that could have been settled out of court?"

"I was making a point, my pretty child. I don't like people who defy me."

"Then you won't like me, either." She pointed her sword at him again. "I'll fight you, Pruitt. I'll fight you for Scott's life, and my own."

"Elizabeth, no!" Scott yelled. "You don't know what you're doing!"

Pruitt only laughed at her. "You? A mere slip of a girl? You're no fighter. You're just a child."

"You underestimate me, Pruitt. You underestimate all of us at the inn. You just think of us as commodities you can buy or sell." She tossed her head back. "We're not commodities. We're people...and unlike you, we actually have feelings."

"Oh, I have feelings." He leered at her. "For instance, I'm feeling a certain frisson in my body that I'm sure your sweet caresses could take care of."

"I'd rather caress someone else, thank you!" She managed to slash the sleeve of his heavy coat. "See how you like it!"

He narrowed his eyes. "This coat was made for me by the finest tailor in Boston. It cost a fortune!" He thrust a little harder at her. She could barely keep him at bay, but in truth, what she wasn't looking for was a duel.

Their blades finally crossed. She grinned at him. "Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Pruitt gave her his oily grin. "Now, that's much better. If you're a good girl, I might even let you see what's in the other pocket."

"I like this pocket better." She finally brought her knee up into his groin. The moment he went over, she took the keys from his pocket. "I'd much rather have these."

"Nice job, Liz!" Scott grinned as she hurried over and started unlocking his bonds. "That was a fine piece of blarney you gave Pruitt there." She helped him to his feet as he rubbed his wrists. "I don't think I need to add that you had me worried. I thought he'd skewer you for sure!"

"I don't think he can right now." She looked up as the two guards who brought Scott in lunged for them. "But they might!"

She quickly handed Scott her sword. Despite his stiff limbs, Scott ably fought with both men at once. He finally skewered both. "We have to get out of here, lass, before Pruitt realizes what you did." Elizabeth grabbed his hand as the two rushed out of the ballroom together, just in time to hear Pruitt bellow for his men to start surrounding the building.

"Scott," Elizabeth puffed as they sprinted across the first floor, "we'll never get out of here!"

He was already pulling her to the stairs, the guards hard on their heels. "You're right about that, lass. We're not going to get out." They dashed up the stairs. "We're going to get up."

"What?"

They were met by three more guards at the top of the staircase. Scott dispatched two, while Elizabeth managed to trip a third down the stairs. "Scott, where are we going?"

He was already making his way to the next set of stairs. "The roof."

"Scott, are you crazy?"

He took her hand again, grinning his familiar ear-to-ear cheeky grin. "Pruitt would be crazy to follow us, wouldn't he?"

Elizabeth let him nearly drag her up the stairs. She could hear Pruitt's voice giving orders in the floor under them. They made their way down another hallway, then up to the dusty attic. Scott forced a window in the attic open with his sword.

Elizabeth had to shield her eyes from the glare of the morning sunlight. They slowly climbed to the very top of the roof. Scott looked over his shoulder. "Come on. I can hear Pruitt's boys banging around down there. If we can get to the end of the main building, we might be able to climb down from there and go find the others."

It was hard to balanced on the shingles. Elizabeth held tightly to Scott's hand as they hurried as fast as they could and still stay upright. "How are we going to get down once we're there, Scott? That's a drop of at least a hundred feet!"

"I'm sure we'll find ivy or a rose bush winding up the roof to swing down on. I used to do it all the time when I was a pirate." He turned his famous grin on her. "Piece of cake."

She groaned. "I hate it when you say that. It means it's going to be anything but!"

"We'll be fine." He squeezed her hand. "Please, for once, just trust me."

"Why didn't _you_ trust _me_?" She made her way around the chimney. "I would have kept your secret. I kept Victor's. I'm not some porcelain doll you need to protect."

Scott stopped for a minute. He turned to her as well as he could. "I was afraid for you. I love you so much. I've never loved anyone like this. Not even Maple. I didn't want you to end up like my parents. I'd never forgive myself." He took her into his arms...and this time, Elizabeth didn't feel he was being forward or wrong. It all felt so, so right.

"Scott, we could have worked together. Whatever happened to you and Maple, whatever Pruitt or anyone else did to you, we could have found a way to change it."

"I realize that now." He kissed her hair gently. "I didn't want more people than necessary to know our identities. The Crimson Blade had to do his...and her...work in secret. The fewer people knew about us, the better." He looked into her tawny brown eyes. "Elizabeth, I..."

"You what?" Two sausage-like hands pulled Elizabeth away. Pruitt squeezed her arms roughly, ignoring her squirms. "You two are absolutely sickening. I don't know why it took you so long to figure out you're insanely in love with each other. I noticed it the moment I saw you in each others' arms at the ball."

Scott reached for his sword. "Pruitt, let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"You forget, servant, you're not the only one who wants our Miss Roberts." He started to move closer to the edge of the roof. "It would be a shame to destroy such an attractive piece of property."

"She's not your property! She's the finest, most beautiful, most intelligent woman alive!" Scott edged towards him, but Pruitt yanked Elizabeth's arms behind her back. She gasped, knowing there would be bruises the shape of his fingers on her arms within minutes.

"Temper temper, servant." He pulled Betty's head very close to his. "If you agree to marry me, I'll let you both walk out of here with no one the wiser."

"No!" Elizabeth screamed at the top of her lungs. "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in the colonies!"

"Very well, then." He shoved her over the edge of the roof. "If I can't have her, no one will."

"NOOO!" Elizabeth heard Scott's furious shriek as she grabbed hold of some loose shingles. "You bastard! I'll kill you for that!" She climbed back up the roof as best she could, listening to the sounds of swords clashing above her.

Scott heaved all his fury into his swings, which were getting wilder and wilder. Pruitt was more controlled. "I'd be more concerned with what I intend to do to you, O'Rourke. I don't like to be bested by servants."

"I told you when you fired me last year, I don't care what you do to me! I care about Elizabeth, and about my frie..." He stopped and realized what he was saying. "My friends. All of them. Everyone at the inn, and all the people in Pittsburgh Village whose lives you've ruined with your treachery. They're my friends...no, my family."

Pruitt snorted. "Your family is likely under arrest by my friend James Crawley at the Weeping Joker Inn by now. He wants that little business to expand his own empire. Personally, I don't understand his interest. It's just an ordinary small hotel, barely worth the land it's on."

"Is that all you care about? Land? What about the people? Mr. Foley, and Eugenia, and Mackie, and Hilary and Jeff, and Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge? What about all the guests who only need a night's lodging in a soft bed and a good play to watch before they get back on the road?"

"What about your own hide?" Elizabeth pulled herself up to the edge of the roof just in time to see Pruitt knock the sword from Scott's hand. She just managed to move away from it as it went flying, landing point-down in one of the flower beds in the garden.

Pruitt tripped Scott, pushing him onto his back and elbows. He pointed his sword at his chest. "What a pity, O'Rourke. Cut down in your prime. It looks like I'm going to have the last laugh."

"He who laughs last, laughs best, Pruitt." Elizabeth could almost hear Scott's rueful grin. "I learned a few lines from all those plays we put on."

"And you'll go laughing to your grave, boy!" He was about to stab Scott when Elizabeth grabbed hold of his ankles. She pulled hard...just as the sound of cannon fire boomed across the garden. Between the noise and the sudden movement, Pruitt was thrown off-balance. He toppled off the shingles and plummeted to the garden below as Elizabeth climbed onto the roof.

"Elizabeth!" The two of them held onto each other as they slowly got to their feet. He threw his arms around her. "I thought you were done for!"

Now her grin was wide. "It'll take a lot more than some corrupt governor to bring us down." She enjoyed his gentle embrace. "I never want to let you go again."

"Lass..." He gently lifted her chin for an ardent kiss. His kiss was soft and passionate, even more so than the one he gave her when he was fired and thought he was leaving her forever. This time, she eagerly returned it. The morning sun glowed brightly behind them.

They finally broke apart long enough to hear the cheering below. The entire staff of the Monongahela Inn, along with most of Scott's men, were waving and cheering and wolf whistling as they ran up the road from the dock, towards the front gardens and main door. Scott and Elizabeth just laughed and waved back.

"I think it's time we joined the rest of our family." Scott lead her to the end of the roof. He reached for her, then for a thick ivy vine.

She kissed him again, this time more lightly. "Good luck!"

"Elizabeth, with you by my side, I'll have nothing but luck!"


	29. Chapter 28

**The Garden, A Few Seconds Later**

They landed safely in a bed of ivy as the rest of the staff came hurrying up to them. "Are you all right?" Mackie helped Elizabeth out. "When we saw Pruitt up there on the roof with you, we thought you were a goner for sure!"

Hilary helped Scott out. "Then Pruitt came crashing down like a sack of potatoes. The police just took him away. He'll be sore, but otherwise, I think he was fine. At least, his voice is fine. Though I'm sure some of his vocabulary was probably censored."

"Thanks for showing up when you did." Elizabeth beamed at the group. "That cannon fire was a great distraction."

"Who was distracting?" Mackie indicated Mr. Foley. "He wanted to shoot off the cannon, just to see how it would sound!" Foley wiggled a finger in his ear. Mackie shook his head. "I told you not to stand so close to it when it went off, Foley."

Eugenia grabbed Foley's hand. "All of you, we have an announcement to make!" She looked at Mr. Foley. "Do you want to tell them, or should I?" Foley wiggled his ear again. Eugenia spoke louder. "Oh, that's right, you can't hear me right now. Well," she turned to the others, "Mr. Foley has consented to become engaged with me! We're going to be married!"

Hilary grinned at Jeff, a little dazed. "I'm going to be the third Lady Hilary Singer. Again. And this time, the wedding will take place right here in Pittsburgh."

Jeff's grin was even wider. "We've had quite enough of Mexican food."

Victor came over with Maple. "We're elated that you've survived Pruitt's scheming," Victor was saying as they joined them. "We weren't sure we'd arrive in time to aid in your deliverance from Pruitt's clutches, despite the Ursula Gothel's reputation for speed."

Scott grinned, noticing that Victor's arm was around Maple's waist. "I see you two have gotten to know one another."

"Oui, Scotty." She looked into Victor's eyes. "We will get to know a lot more about each other soon."

"As soon as I return from Fort Pitt." He nodded at the ship. "We'll have to turn the Ursula Gothel and her crew over to the proper authorities. They're locked in the hold where we were held this morning."

Scott smirked. "Oh yes, what did happen to Captain DeVile? She cooling her heels with her boys?"

Hilary patted the sword by her side. "Maple, Jeff, and I took care of her. We decided she needed a bath."

Jeff grinned. "Hilary scratched her, then we tossed her in the Monongahela. Cribby said he'd take her to a hospital to get her injuries looked at. After that, it sounds like he's going to use that reward money he got from Pruitt to leave her high and dry somewhere that isn't Pittsburgh."

"I imagine she'll either be deported back to Germany or left to fend for herself on the streets," Victor added.

"I think I like that scenario even better than her being skewered. It's more than she deserves." Scott put an arm around Elizabeth, ignoring Victor's raised eyebrows. "'All's well that ends well,' as your Shakespeare would say."

C.J hurried up to them. "Not quite. There's still one thing I want to know."

Mackie pushed at his glasses. "One thing?"

"Scott, when we started this, we were just raiding Pruitt's people and keeping the money. Why did you change to helping locals in Pittsburgh? We went from being robbers to being the Robin Hoods of Pittsburgh Village." C.J smiled a little. "Not that I minded it. I liked helping people better. You were so hell-bent on stealing from Pruitt, though."

Scott looked at the faces of the people gathered around him. "I wanted to get back at Pruitt," he said quietly. "Pruitt destroyed everything I had, so I thought I'd repay him in kind, by hitting him in the only place it would hurt – his pocketbook. I knew Pruitt would recognize me, so I dressed as the Crimson Blade to fool him and the other rich nobles we robbed. As the whole thing got bigger, I brought in more people to help, like Maple and you, C.J."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "That's what you were doing that night, the first night you were here! The night I bumped into you in the hall. You never did tell me. Mackie mentioned that the Crimson Blade had robbed Pruitt. You were giving Maple the money to hide in the woods!" She looked up at him. "When did you start giving the money away instead of keeping it?"

Scott gazed lovingly into her eyes. She responded in kind, much to Victor's disappointment. "About a month or so after I took over the job as head innkeeper. When I started this, I wasn't really thinking of anyone's problems but my own...but then, I started spending time with all of you."

He turned his gaze to Victor. "And then you died, or at least, we thought you did. Here I was, practically taking your job, and you'd been killed fighting for a real cause. I started giving the money to those causes. I thought it was a win-win situation. I'd still hurt Pruitt, a well-known supporter of the colonies remaining with England, and assuage my own guilt." He frowned. "Then Pruitt found out about the money and had me fired. I don't think he recognized me at that point, or he likely would have had me arrested then."

Victor turned to Maple. "When did you take over the role of the Crimson Blade?"

"After I was fired." Scott made a face. "That wasn't exactly a high point in my life. I'd lost a job I'd come to love and a place that felt like home, Elizabeth despised me, and Pruitt had raised the price on my head."

"Oui," Maple added. "He said, it was too hot for him, would I take role for a while? I wasn't sure it would work." She smiled. "It worked. I tres enjoyed being the Crimson Blade. It was really much fun, and I got to do things that women are not usually allowed to do. Not to mention, it confuse Pruitt. He did not know which Crimson Blade was doing the robbing."

Jeff looked confused. "Scott, why did you keep coming back, even after Pruitt fired you?"

Hilary nodded. "And after Victor returned."

"Partially to keep the Crimson Blade going." He took Elizabeth's hand. "And partly because I was in love. I was in love not only with Elizabeth, but with working, and living, and arguing with people who cared about me. I'd finally found a place that felt like home, and I didn't want to let it go." He frowned. "I also suspected that Pruitt and Pavla weren't finished with their scheming. I didn't want anyone else to lose their lives and their marriages to them, or people like them."

Hilary turned to Scott. "I want to break our marriage contract. Not that it was real to begin with, but..."

Scott laughed. "You don't have to explain, Hildy. We've both found what we were looking for."

"It's Hilary!" She sighed. "It's always been Hilary."

Scott nodded. "Hilary"

C.J turned to Mackie. "You know, it occurs to me that you and I seem to be the only ones without a girl at the moment. Any suggestions?"

"I don't know about you, kid," Mackie gave him a sly grin and pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, "but I'm going to call on Lady Penelope Comminger at Flowergrams Gardens as soon as we get back in Pittsburgh. I picked up her address the night of the ball, but we were both out of town for a while. I heard she just got back. Maybe we could discuss old times." He patted C.J's shoulder. "She might even have a cute younger cousin for you."

Eugenia looked around. "Has anyone seen Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge? They're the only ones who're missing."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Oh goodness! We told them to go to the dock, not the Governor's Mansion! They probably have no idea where we are."

That was when a carriage and a large battalion of militiamen on horseback in blue and red uniforms rode up to the mansion. Gertrude and Mr. Eldridge hurried out of the carriage and over to the others. They both looked very upset.

They hurried to the group gathered by the flower beds. Mr. Eldridge frowned. "We're so glad we found you! Well, those nice men really found us and Mr. Kahana at the Fort. They had news for us, and we said that we deliver news, but this was really important news and some of you would want to know, someday..."

Gertrude finished his rambling. "We're at war."

Victor was the first to her side. "What?"

"We're at war with the British. We just heard they attacked the towns of Lexington and Concord near Boston." Gertrude nodded at the men behind them who lead the angrily protesting Pruitt away. "These men are here to arrest Pruitt. He's a known Loyalist and the royal governor. Most of the government officials signed on by England have been either arrested or forced to return to leave the colonies."

Scott's jaw hardened. "They can have him. It saves me the trouble of doing him in. It's what _he_ deserves"

Victor turned to the crowd behind him. "We'll take the Ursula Gothel back to Pittsburgh Village, then bring the pirate crew to Fort Pitt and decide what must be done from there."

Scott was already walking towards the Ursula Gothel. "You know, Vic, I...uh, worked on a ship once. I could help you get her back to the village."

"I would greatly appreciate any help from anyone. I'm no sailor. I've spent most of my life on land. I wouldn't have gotten it here if it wasn't for the help of Mr. Byrnes and some of your men."

"I have been on ships." Maple took Victor's arm. "That is how I came to colonies. I could help, too."

Elizabeth held Scott's hand. "I'm not leaving either of you again!"

Victor put his arm around Maple and smiled at Scott, who put his arms around Elizabeth. "Why don't we all go home?"

Scott grinned. "Sure thing, Vic."

"Actually, I really do prefer Victor."

"All right, Vic...tor." He held out his hand. "Friends, at least for now?"

Victor took his hand and shook it vigorously. "Comrades in arms. We're all working and fighting together for a common cause."

Elizabeth smiled at their joined hands. "And that's how it should be."


	30. Chapter 29

**The Monongahela Inn, A Week Later**

The women of the Monongahela Inn were all sitting on the porch, discussing what they could do to help the war effort, when they saw a dispirited troop of men shuffle down Isabella Street. They all jumped up at once to greet them. Most of the men had gone to Fort Pitt to sign up for the militia that very morning. Scott vanished a few days before, and Victor hadn't been seen at the inn since the day after the war was announced.

Hilary got to Jeff first. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Jeffrey. You cheated death in Boston, and now you want to double your bet. You're too foolhardy, too reckless, too..."

Jeff was already storming into the lobby. "They wouldn't take me, Hilary. Not in the condition my knees are in."

Hilary and the rest of the staff followed him. "Oh, thank goodness! Our wedding is in two weeks!"

Eugenia looked at Mr. Foley. "And ours is next month." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Did you..."

"They wouldn't take him, either. Those flat feet of his make him too slow for the Army." Mackie patted Mr. Foley's slumped shoulder.

Mr. Eldridge looked incensed. "And they had the nerve to tell Mackie, Lester, and me that we were too old for battle! I've fought the Dutch, the Spanish, and the French. I could certainly handle the British!"

Elizabeth was taking head count. "We're still missing Scott, C.J, and Victor." She bit her lip. "Do you think..."

Maple put a hand on her shoulder. "I do not think they would take Victor. He was injured in Boston, remember. He might be put to better use writing pamphlets, as he has done. Scott and C.J..."

Elizabeth groaned. "Scott had better not be pulling another Crimson Blade con. He promised me he was giving all that up to work at the Inn!"

Maple sighed. "You know Scott. He says he promises, but 'once a scoundrel, once a scoundrel again,' as they say."

"If he's out there trying to con some unsuspecting soldier out of a month's pay, I'll make him clean out the chicken coop again! Twice!" She threw a folder under her arm. "Maple, if anyone asks, I'll be in my room. I'm way, way behind on my stories! I have to finish that one about the writer who falls in love with the mercenary and tracks down a priceless jewel in the Mexican colonies with him."

Maple nodded. "All right, Elizabeth. You will be here for afternoon play?"

Elizabeth smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course."

She wasn't sure how long she was in her room. She tried to lose herself in the world of her story, but her own thoughts and feelings kept intruding. _Scott promised me! Where is he? Where are they? Why did I believe he could change?And what about Victor? Why can't he find a military job that'll let him sit still for five minutes?_

"If I could get my hands on those two," Elizabeth yelled to the quiet room, "I'd...I'd...I don't know what I'd do, but it wouldn't be very nice!" There was a knock on the door, even as her yelling died down. "Come in!" she snapped.

"I'm glad to hear you're worried about me." Elizabeth stood and turned to face Scott O'Rourke-Sherwood. She was shocked to see him in the red and blue uniform of a Patriot officer.

"Scott," she said, "you're in the army now."

"Actually, I'm a privateer, hired by the Patriot army to keep the British off their backs." He nodded in the general direction of the harbor. "C.J joined, too. We've spent the last two days helping the boat works here refit the Ursula Gothel for war. We even renamed her. I thought the Ariel Belle had a more pleasant ring to it."

"You're leaving?"

"We're both shipping out tomorrow. C.J's in the lobby now, with the rest of the staff." He gave her a small version of his famous grin."If I fought for places like Quebec and Montreal in the French and Indian War, I'm sure as hell going to fight for Philadelphia and Pittsburgh in this one. I'll be fighting for all the Elizabeth Roberts out there. Even if it means doing without the lass I care for, for a little while. I guess that's how this whole thing works." He put out his arm. "Victor's back, too. He came in at the same time I did. He wanted to meet us in the Manager's Office. Shall we go, Miss Roberts?"

She nodded, feeling dumbstruck. "We mustn't keep Victor waiting."

 **The Manager's Office, A Few Minutes Later**

Victor Comstock was going through papers when the two arrived. He stood and went to the duo. "First of all, Lieutenant Sherwood, let me be the first...well, second...to congratulate you on your commission. I heard you're shipping out tomorrow?"

He nodded, stiffening noticeably. He took Elizabeth's hand protectively. "Yes, I am. C.J and I will both be working for the Patriot army."

"As will everyone at the Monongahela Inn." He looked at the duo in front of him. "The officers at Fort Pitt wish for us to become a type of military encampment. We'll provide rest, relaxation, and entertainment for weary soldiers just coming from the battlefields. We'll still take our regular non-military paying customers as well. It'll bet twice the work on half the budget. I'll be at Fort Pitt for part of the time, continuing my pamphlets." Victor was very nearly beaming. "God, I love a challenge!"

Scott stood, his eyes suddenly not wanting to meet Victor or Elizabeth's. "I'm sure it'll be great, Vic..tor. You're a brilliant innkeeper. I have to go. They need to make a few final preparations on the Ariel Belle before she's ready to sail again." He nodded at Elizabeth, unable to look at her. "I'll be seein' ye, lass." He shook Victor's hand again. "Good luck with your work, Victor."

Elizabeth followed him out the lobby and onto the porch. "Scott..."

He stopped on the steps. "Lass, I can't stay and watch you with another man. If Victor is what you want, I won't stand in your way."

She turned him around and kissed him. His eyes finally met hers. "Lass..."

"Scott," she breathed, "I was so worried when you left! I thought you hadn't changed. But now I know. I know you meant what you said."

He lifted her chin and kissed her again. "I love you, Elizabeth Roberts. I always will." He took something round and silvery out of his pocket. "Here. I want you to keep this for me, until I come home."

She looked at the object in her hand. "Your watch? The one from your parents? But I couldn't..."

He smiled. "I trust ye, lass. I know you'll keep it safe for me." He kissed the top of her head.

"I'll miss you, Scott."

"And I'll miss you." He opened the watch in her hand one final time. "Oh, would you look at the time?" He looked up, over her head, with a small grin. "And at our audience."

The entire staff of the Monongahela Inn stood on the porch, watching the two with grins plastered on most of their faces. "No, keep going!" C.J insisted. "It was just getting to the good part."

Mackie whistled. "This is better than any of our plays."

"It is tres romantic!" Maple sighed. Victor was next to her. While his face showed disappointment and confusion, Elizabeth did notice that he didn't seem to mind when Maple put her good arm around his shoulder.

Hilary nudged Jeff. "I hope you're taking notes for our wedding night. I want it to be just as delightfully dramatic as this!"

He gave her a squeeze. "We'll make our own drama, Mittens."

Mr. Eldridge watched them with a chuckle. "Understood completely."

Scott nodded at the young man on the porch. "Come on, C.J." He climbed on a horse. "I'll see you around, Elizabeth Roberts. Someday, I'll be home."

Elizabeth and the crowd on the porch waved to him as the two men mounted horses and rode off down Isabella Street. "Good-bye, Scott! I love you!" But the two horses were already flying around the corner and out of sight.

She gazed at the silver watch in her hand. "Oh, would you look at the time?" She turned to her beloved family on the porch as she gently placed the watch in her pocket. "I believe we have an Inn to run!"


	31. Epilogue

**The Green Room, Radio Station WENN, February 1942, An Hour Later**

Hilary Booth looked up from her tea. "And they all lived happily ever after, I suppose? Even that quite interesting noblewoman who got shackled to the young man who threw her over for some female pirate." She joined them on the couch. "I wish I came in a little earlier. That was quite a story you two came up with."

Maple nodded. "Yeah, it was. I had fun with it. Do you think we could actually get it on the air, Betty?"

"If we could get a sponsor interested in it. Stories about American history are really popular right now, what with the war and all."

Hilary put a hand on Betty's shoulder. "I get the feeling you wish things really had ended that way."

Betty ran her finger over the coffee table again. "I don't know what I feel, Hilary. Everything was so jumbled after Pearl Harbor. It felt unfinished, like those cliffhangers in _The Crimson Blade_ finale. It wasn't the way I would have ended things."

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I sure liked that ending." Betty started. That voice was too familiar. It should have been at basic training...

The three women looked up to see Victor Comstock, Scott Sherwood, and Jeff Singer standing in the doorway, all with enormous grins on their faces.

Hilary, Maple, and Betty all stood at once. "How long have you three been there?" Betty demanded.

"Long enough, Betty." Scott chuckled. "Long enough to be glad I heard that epic."

"You do like your former forests," Victor added with his small smile.

Jeff added his own grin. "I thought the ending was brilliant. Especially the part where the noblewoman defeated the evil pirate wench in a duel."

Victor's eyes went to Maple. "I especially enjoyed how the Crimson Blade's second-in-command was a woman. It's not an idea one typically finds in your standard action melodrama."

"I liked how the Crimson Blade reformed and got the girl." Scott tipped his officer's hat. "Even if he had to leave her for a little while in the end."

"Scott," Betty began, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at basic training in Texas?"

"I was." Scott's grin was a mile wide. "They finally decided that they needed an old hand at codebreaking and radio more at home than on the battlefield. I was transferred."

Victor nodded. "You're now looking at the Business and Advertising Manager of WENN and the W.E.N.N. I'll remain on as the Creative Director and General Manager."

"You mean you're all staying?" Maple turned to Scott. "Even you, Scotty?"

Scott nodded. "That's right." He turned to Victor. "We said some things we shouldn't have the day I left...a lot of things, really. Confronting Betty in the manager's office like we did was just plain stupid."

Betty made a face. "I still can't believe the two of you put me on the spot like that. Did you really think I'd choose one of you right then and there?"

"I don't think anyone's head was really on straight in the days following the attack on Pearl Harbor." He put out a hand to Scott. "If The Crimson Blade and Johnathan Arnold can make a truce, I don't think it should prove too much of a difficulty for Scott Sherwood and Victor Comstock."

Scott shook the offered hand. "Sure, Vic...tor."

Hilary quickly put her tea cup in the sink. "Would you excuse me, please? I have to be on the air in a minute, before we have to hear Eugenia attempt to play Yvonne the Terrible on 'Crimebreakers.' If Mackie tries to kiss her, her new fiancee Mr. Foley will likely plant a fist in his kisser."

Jeff stopped her in the hallway. "Hilary, did you really marry Scott Sherwood?"

She stopped by the water cooler. "Yes and no." She got a drink, then turned to him. "It was a sham, Jeffrey. Some scheme Scott was working on before he left for Texas. The marriage papers were fakes." She took a drink, then continued. "I went along with it to make you jealous. I was so hurt when you went and married Pavla like that, even if you initially had good intentions."

"Trust me, Hilary, I've done nothing but regret the entire incident with Pavla ever since it happened." He took her hand. "I really mean it this time, Mittens. I'm a free man. Will you be my wife? We could have that real wedding you mentioned in the story."

"A wedding would be nice, even with wartime restrictions." She patted his cheek. "We'll see, Pumpkin. I may even consider dating you, if I'm feeling very, very kind. You could even kiss me good-night."

"It would be a start." He followed Hilary into Studio A. "If you'd just listen..."

Scott and Betty watched them. "Are they still at it?"

Betty glared at him. "Well, you did marry Hilary. That put a bit of a strain on their relationship."

"I never married her. It was a fake. It was...something I was working on before I went to Texas." He sighed. "Betty, I swear, I've changed. I probably won't give up cons entirely. It's a part of me." He looked around at the station, smiling wistfully. "But most of me is just happy to be home." He offered his arm. "Dinner at the Buttery? My treat. We could discuss new program ideas...and maybe some other things."

She finally smiled and took his arm. "All right, my dashing Crimson Blade." She looked at her own watch. "Oh, would you look at the time." Scott raised his eyebrows, but his only response was a small grin.

Victor frowned as Scott and Betty took their coats and headed out the door. He barely noticed Maple joining him. "Hey, I don't have to be on the air until 'The Glint Grab Bag.' Wanna grab a bucket of suds at O'Malley's?"

He smiled at her. "You know, that was always my favorite program. I never missed it when I worked here full-time. I even wrote the 'Looneyville' sketch myself."

"You did?" She took Victor's arm. "Why don't ya tell me all about it over a burger and fries?"

"Why not? I don't have anywhere I genuinely need to be tonight, besides the station."

Maple grinned as they followed Betty and Scott out the door. "Ya know, Victor, I think this could be the beginnin' of a beautiful relationship."

 **The End**


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